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saturndivine · 4 years ago

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The Ferality of Mars

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Feral: "Existing in a wild or untamed state"

When I think of Mars, I think of the Greek god, Ares. I think of the heart pumping blood throughout the body to keep it alive. I think of passion, ferocity, and rawness. Mars is the planet of emotion, similarly to the moon but with a more sinister twist. Mars wants you to feel everything and create with that energy, Mars wants you to be overwhelmed with emotion, so much so it consumes and guides you. Mars wants you to feel everything. It is known as a Malefic Planet because of its inability to be tamed and controlled but Mars isn’t about having control, its about intuition and allowing yourself to be guided by the invisible force that encourages you to nuzzle into your most primal and authentic state and honor that part of you.

[Yes I will be using Hozier lyrics that represent the ferality of each sign]

Aries Mars [Mars in 1st]

When I picture Aries Mars at its most feral state, I visualize a forest fire consuming everything in its path, absorbing nature to feed as fuel. With Mars in its rulership, Aries Mars has no issue releasing, guided by their heart throughout it all to overcome whatever may stand in their way. They move quickly and harshly, striking first and questioning later. You mold life into what you want it to be so there is no need for you to even plan right? As an unstoppable force, you have to let your heart take control.

“There's no plan, there's no race to be run

The harder the pain, honey, the sweeter the sun

There's no plan, there's no kingdom to come

Sit in & watch the sunlight fade, honey, enjoy its getting late

Theres no plan, theres no hand on the reign,

...As Mack explained, there will be darkness again”

Taurus Mars [Mars in 2nd]

When I picture Taurus Mars at its most feral state, I imagine a bear tearing its way through a beehive, grasping at the honeycombs and devouring it in a matter of seconds. With a venus-ruled mars or mars in detriment, you all look for the sweeter things in life and insist that you are worthy of goodness and don’t mind taking it for yourself. Conflict is stupid to you because you have your own morals and studies and firmly believe in what you desire and if anyone steps to you, you have the power to throw it right back in their face. You are the raging bull, undefeated once you’re committed. But you represent the tamer, earthy side of Mars.

“I have never known peace like the damp grass that yields to me.

I have never known hunger, like these insects that feast on me.

A thousand teeth, and yours among them, I know.

Our hungers appeased, our heartbeats becoming slow.”

Gemini Mars [Mars in 3rd]

When I picture Gemini Mars at its most feral state, I picture the rebirth that spring offers. The energy of this mars sign matches the intensity of the rising sun and falling rain that causes the flowers to blossom and fill the earth with its aroma. It is quite impossible to stop a determined Gemini, they want to leave their mark on this earth and do so in many different ways as they are indestructible, powered by the combination of their mind and their heart which creates an explosion upon collision. To get in the way of this placement is to stand in the way of the changing seasons, impossible.

“Each day you'd rise with me, know that I would gladly be the Icarus to your certainty.

Oh, my sunlight, sunlight, sunlight.

Strap the wing to me, death trap clad happily, with wax melted, I’d meet the sea,

Under sunlight, sunlight, sunlight.”

Cancer Mars [Mars in 4th]

When I picture Cancer Mars at its most feral state, I visualize the crumbling of the earth into itself, only to grow back in a healthier form. A resilient placement that can have the worst thrown at them and come back only more beautiful. In the introduction, I discussed how both Moon and Mars share a common goal but the Moon goes about it a different way, as Cancer Mars goes about martian energy in a different way as well. With mars in fall, Cancer takes the soft approach to ferality, embracing the harsh energy and converting it into tenderness.

“And I love too, that love soon might end,

be known in its aching, shown in the shaking,

Lately of my wasteland, baby.

Be still, my indelible friend, you are unbreaking,

Though quaking, though crazy

That's just wasteland, baby.”

Leo Mars [Mars in 5th]

When I picture Leo Mars at its most feral state I see a blinding white-hot light overcoming anyone and everyone in its path, forcing others to bend to its will simply by doing what it does naturally. As a fixed mars, Leos energy is continuous and bold, quite difficult to escape if a Leo Mars has you in their eye line. They are everywhere, they rule the heart so they rule ferality in a way, diving back into their lion roots and fully delving into the fact that they are the rulers of the jungle and rulers of the world.

“Be love in its disrepute, scorches the hillside and salts every root

And watches the slowing and starving of troops

And, lover, be good to me.

Be there and just as you stand or be like the rose that you hold in your hand

That will grow bold in a barren and desolate land

Oh, lover, be good to me.”

Virgo Mars [Mars in 6th]

When I picture Virgo Mars at its most feral state I can clearly gaze upon an open field, a deer nosing at grass only to be pounced on by a random predator, yet Virgo represents both the predator and the prey, enforcing balance and really honoring nature fully. Virgo Mars is one of the most ferocious and determined martian placement because they understand how to use the life around them to their advantage. Failure is impossible because they are always ten steps ahead of everyone else. They understand balance, both aggressiveness, and peacefulness.

“With the war of the fire, my heart moves to its feet

Like the ashes of ash, I saw eyes in the heat

Feel it soft and as pure as snow, fell in love with the fire long ago

With each love I could lose, I was never the same

Watch it still live in roofs, be consumed by the flame

I was fixed on your hand of gold, laying waste of my lovin' long ago”

Libra Mars [Mars in 7th]

When I picture Libra Mars at its most feral state, I see a person walking into a mossy lake only to never come out again. There is a slight underestimation when people first get to know the Libra Mars. This martian placement matches up with tricky Aphrodite, Libra mars has secrets they dont want unturned, they have a hidden past that they want to be kept to themselves because they are never the people they were a few moments ago. They are evolving and healing, rubbing soil on their open wounds to grow into a new version of themselves.

“I had a thought, dear, however scary about that night, the bugs and the dirt.

Why were you digging? What did you bury before those hands pulled me from the earth?

I will not ask you where you came from, I will not ask and neither should you.

Honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips, we should just kiss like real people do.”

Scorpio Mars [Mars in 8th]

When I picture Scorpio Mars at its most feral state, there is a black burning tree in the middle of the falling snow, crackling and popping and falling to the pieces onto blankets of snow only to keep burning. Mars takes a different approach in this rulership, it is calculated, ready, and sure of whatever move is to be made as if it has been practiced for quite some time. There is no defeating a Scorpio mars, only succumbing, bending to its will, and praying that they will take mercy on your soul.

“If I was born as a blackthorn tree, I'd wanna be felled by you, held by you

Fuel the pyre of your enemies.

Ain't it warming you, the world gone up in flames?

Ain't it the life you, your lighting of the blaze?

Ain't it a waste they'd watch the throwing of the shade?

Ain't you my baby, ain't you my babe?”

Sagittarius Mars [Mars in 9th]

When I picture Sagittarius Mars at its most feral state, I see the serpent in the garden of Eden sliding on its belly and offering an option of freedom, going against the grain of submissiveness. Sagittarius Mars tends to ooze this raw sex appeal that stems from their confidence & their need to question the life around them, never satisfied by what is given to them, instead they leave their own mark on the world before them by embracing individuality and moving along their own path.

“I'd be the voice that urged Orpheus when her body was found.

I'd be the choiceless hope in grief that drove him underground.

I'd be the dreadful need in the devotee that made him turn around.

And I'd be the immediate forgiveness in Eurydice,

Imagine being loved by me.”

Capricorn Mars [Mars in 10th]

When I picture Capricorn Mars at its most feral state, I imagine the fall of an empire, a civilization, a society, forced to come to terms with the fact that its reign has come to an end. Mars in exalt, arguably one of the most powerful placements to have in the natal chart, there isn’t a way to prevent the energy of a Capricorn Mars, they are backed by Saturn, two malefic energies combining to create an unbeatable power and manifesting as strength in the native who claims this energy.

“It's the light, and it's the obstacle that casts it

It's the heat that drives the light, It's the fire it ignites,

It's not the waking, it's the rising.

It's not the song, it is the singing.

It's the heaven of a human spirit ringing.

It is the bringing of the line, It is the bearing of the rhyme

It's not the waking, it's the rising.”

Aquarius Mars [Mars in 11th]

When I picture Aquarius Mars at its most feral state, I visualize a group of nude women, dancing around an intense fire, the full moon shining only for them as they howl out into the wind. Aquarius Mars is a placement that understands how to honor their roots and get back in touch with themselves to move to the future. They use their past to propel them into new opportunities and to become a higher version of themselves. There is no obstructing this futuristic placement, eyes steady on the prize that remains up ahead.

“When you move, I can recall something that's gone from me

When you move honey, I'm put in awe of something so flawed and free.

So move me, baby, shake like the bough of a willow tree,

You do it naturally, move me, baby.”

Pisces Mars [Mars in 12th]

When I picture Pisces Mars at its most feral state, I envision a floating sailor, sinking in with each song that leaves the siren’s voice only to realize that it is too late as the last of air leaves their lungs and they now become one with the siren. Pisces Mars has the gift of “innocence” that people project onto them and they understand how to use it to their advantage and come out on top. Deception is a mastered tool but doesn’t negate the fact that they are simply seductive and persuasive and hold power that many are unaware of. They should continue to move carefully and use their “faults” to their benefit.

“Feeling more human and hooked on her flesh,

I lay my heart down with the rest at her feet.

Fresh from the fields, all fetor and fertile

It's bloody and raw, but I swear it is sweet.

In leash-less confusion, I'll wander the concrete,

Wonder if better now having survived.

The jarring of judgment and reason's defeat.

The sweet heat of her breath in my mouth; I'm alive.”

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thefanficmonster · 4 years ago

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More Than You Know

The Curator (The Dark Pictures Anthology) & Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Comfort Fluff

Summary: When university stresses get to you, you can only face them properly if you have a helping hand of a good friend to help you stand to your feet no matter how many times you’ve been knocked down or discouraged.

Requested by 💀 Anon. Hi dear! I know you’ve been enjoying my fics for our ominous Curator so I hope you enjoy this one just as much as the previous. That is if you’ve stuck around long enough to read it. I don’t blame you if you haven’t it’s been a long wait but if you have indeed stuck around - please enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

Seeing the flurry she was when she basically barged into the Repository, he knew right away he was no match for her force and didn’t even make an attempt to stop her when she took off on the impossible adventure of looking for a on her own. Truth be told, she is yet to even take proper notice of his presence, but he doubts she’d ask him for help even then. She’s a pile of pride, self-encouragement and curiosity, and though that’s a firm building of emotional stability at a first glance, it’s fragile and easy to knock down. All she is relies on her mind and skills and as little as one bad day could send her crumbling and spiraling downwards.

And Lord knows he’d never let that happen.

He’s given her the space her and her haywire mind clearly need right now, taking after cleaning the messes she makes behind herself after looking through individual shelves for something he’s yet to understand what. To be perfectly honest, he’s not even sure she knows what she’s looking for, but he wouldn’t dare say it to her, not when she seems one thread away from snapping completely.

With the third pile of books on the floor cleared up, each book placed in its previous spot with care, the Curator walks over to his luxurious, old-timey desk near which Y/N dropped her bag upon entering, some of its contents spilling out onto the floor. He hadn’t noticed it before, but now that he has, he’s taken it upon himself to clean it up as well and store all the items and the bag somewhere safe as to avoid the risk of her losing something important. She’s already stressed enough as it is, he’s afraid of finding out how another inconvenience will affect her already unstable mental state. Kneeling down to lift the bag as well as the two folders that have fallen out of it, he can’t harness his curiosity before he opens one of them and looks through the lines of handwritten text looking back at him, some jumping out thanks to a coat of highlighter signaling their importance. The folder’s pages, in contrast to it’s cover, is vibrant and colorful as a result of the many lines highlighted and underlined with colorful pens. That sight alone speaks volumes about Y/N’s personality - vibrant, colorful, cheerful, but with a few shadowy and dark spots here and there. Every person has them, and for her they are the result of her need to achieve more and more, a result of her inability to be satisfied with how much she’s done for herself, her career and for the people in her life. Her flaw is that she wants to be flawless. But no one can achieve that, of course. It’s not like he hasn’t tried to explain that to her, but his attempts have proven to be hopeless, rendering him overall helpless whenever she gets like this - in need of being in control of her destiny completely.

Yet deep down inside she knows she’s not nor will she ever be.

Apparently, she’s already come to this realization, as evidenced by the soft spots coming from the next room over where she had moved her scavenger hunt.

Without another second to waste, the Curator sets the bag down on one of the chairs before quickly making his way through the doorway and into the wide open room with books lining all the walls from ceiling to floor. There he sees Y/N sitting on the floor, surrounded by books she’s trying to put into small neat piles while trying and failing to stifle her sobs of exhaustion and disappointment. Sobs that tear his heart to pieces.

“Y/N...“ He approaches he cautiously as though she’s a wounded wild animal, “Mind telling me what’s going on? I don’t know how to handle the situation if you keep me in the dark, you know?“ He finally settles on saying, afraid he might hit a nerve by using the wrong terminology in his expressions.

Y/N wipes the tears from her cheeks almost angrily. Not angry at him, but at herself, that’s perfectly evident. “See, that’s the problem. I’m tired. I’m tired of so many things, some of them aren’t even related to one another. Like, I’m tired of having others handle my situations and deal with me.” She motions toward him with and almost limp with exhaustion arm, “I’m tired of university and my studies, they drain the life and the will to live out of me.” She motions to the books surrounding her. “I’m tired of being a nobody. You know, the typical stuff.”

“The stuff you always sweep under the rug, you mean?“ He questions, not allowing himself to dwell on her words long enough for them to hurt him too much, “You see, none of the things you just counted down would be big problems if you looked at them differently.“ He kneels down opposite her, taking the book she’s holding from her and taking hold of her hand instead, causing her to look him in the eye. “For starters, you’re not a nobody. You’re Y/N Y/L/N, someone who has more determination than all the people I’ve met in my life combined. And trust me, I’ve met plenty of people.“ He nods knowingly at her before continuing, “Secondly, I can’t recall a single time I’ve done something for you. You never allow me to, in case you’ve forgotten.“ He points out, raising his eyebrows to put extra emphasis on his point, earning him a small laugh from the teary-eyed girl, making him smile, “You’re so much more than you give yourself credit for, Y/N. You know a lot more than you know. You have the ability to do a lot more than you think you can. But, it’s a slippery slope - you need to remember you’re not superhuman. Chasing that image of perfection will drive your sanity off the ledge and send you in the complete opposite direction of perfection. So, why don’t you stay what you are and do the best with what you possess and what you’ve been given. Stay human, Y/N. Lord knows I wish I was. I wish I knew what that felt like.“

The two stare at each other in silence for a few moments, one confused and the other shocked. Y/N’s confused by what he’s just said, not sure she’s grasped the meaning of his words correctly and the Curator is dumbfounded he said that. He’s never thought he’s say it, never thought those words would leave the confinement of his mind, but now they are out in the open, much to his dismay. All he has left to do is pray she doesn’t think much of it.

Luckily, she doesn’t.

“You’re so ominous and weird sometimes.“ She scoffs, shaking her head, pushing one of the book piles to the side.

Covering up a sigh of relief, the Curator springs up to his feet, offering her his hand to help her to her own. She gladly takes the offered helping hand and stands up, dusting her jeans despite there being no dust on them. There’s never dust on any surfaces in the Repository.

“Alright, now, what was the reason you felt the need to ransack my dear Repository?“ He asks in a mock-offended tone and a furrowed brow.

Y/N rolls her eyes, “I have a paper I need to write by the end of this week. You know me, I like outdoing myself, so I started being a little...frantic.”

He hums, nodding sarcastically, “Ah yes, frantic. Well, seems like this book you’re looking for is not a specific title, is it?” She shakes her head, “In that case, we better go on this scavenger hunt together, don’t you think? I mean, two pairs have more insight than one, two brains work better...”

“Ok, ok, I get it.“ She laughs, cutting him off, “I accept your help, but just this once.“ She points a warning finger at him.

He can’t help but smile at her, “Progress. Come on, let’s find your book.”

Just as he starts to turn around, he feels Y/N’s fingers wrap around his wrist, stopping him mid-motion. He turns back to face her but has no time to question her actions because, before he’s even processed any of it, her arms are wrapped around him, in a tight embrace. “Thank you.“ She whispers to him and lets go of him just as quickly as she had initiated the hug, turning on her heel and walking off further into the heart of the room, leaving Death himself speechless behind her.

Only Y/N Y/L/N can do that. And yet she still has the audacity to say she’s a nobody.

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blacksunscorpio · 4 years ago

Note

What does it mean when I have a Capricorn signature?

Signature Sign In Astrology

You might have heard the term signature sign thrown around if you’ve been studying astrology for a while. Others of you might not have heard if this concept at all. It isn’t as well-known, however, it can reveal significant information about you.

What it Means

To put it plainly, the astrological signature sign is the zodiac sign that’s the most specific to you and your character.

How to find it

It involves noting which element and quality/modality appear the most or has the most signs and then combining them into a zodiac sign which is taken to be the signature sign of the chart. It will be easy to do because certain characteristics of signs will repeat themselves. It’s the most frequent modality and element in your natal chart.

Ex. 1 A person has more fire signs than any other element, and more fixed signs than any other quality, then that person's signature is Leo. In some cases, there is no clear majority in either element or quality to give a clear signature. When this occurs, an individual has an Ambiguous Signature.

Ex. 2 Let’s say you are a Taurus Sun, a fixed earth sign. But many planets in mutable signs take up residence in your chart. In addition, you have a multitude of planets in water. This makes you feel like a Neptunian/Pisces, which is a mutable water sign. You might not have many or any for that matter significant placements in Pisces but somehow still identify with the qualities of the sign to a great extent.

How To Find It Cont.

You weigh the elements and modalities of the sign where a planet is located in your chart. Begin with the Sun, next Moon and repeat this process for all the planets in your natal chart: Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, and Pluto. The ascendant and the Midheaven also have to be considered.

Signature Signs Through The Zodiac

Aries signature

If Aries is your signature sign, you are ambitious and have a strong will. Boss-like. Warrior. Killer instinct. Can sometimes be hot-headed and impulsive, it happens that you act before you think instead of the other way around which can get you into serious trouble. Don’t be Oberyn from GoT and get cocky now. However, you’re a born leader and like to initiate things. Taking action is your second nature. No one will ever pull the Hermit card or 4 of cups for you in a Tarot reading. Way too active. A straightforward sign, which sometimes blends into bluntness, bossiness, or take-no-prisoners attitude. Being independent is very important to you. You hate being told what to do. You like to work alone if you can. Competitive and brave, someone who loves new challenges. You love to win. Will always be after new opportunities to conquer.

Taurus signature

If Taurus is your astrological signature sign, you prefer to think before you act. Need a lot of time to make a decision, but once it’s done, nothing can make you change your mind. You are incredibly stubborn and persistent. Taurus is the sign of hedonism. If this is your signature sign in astrology, you know how to enjoy life. You appreciate good food, beautiful clothes, and everything luxurious. Taurus craves stability, both financially and emotionally. You are dependable and passionate. Love to cook and or shop for expensive and good quality things. Can be jealous in love or possessive as well. Bullheaded to the point of no return but just as ambitious when it comes to cultivating stability and wealth.

Gemini signature

If Gemini is your signature sign, you are curious, witty, and chatty. You are a great observant, someone who notices every detail, and then make a pun about it. Gemini is incredibly smart. They love to read and write, and they are usually talented when it comes to expressing themselves. However, Gemini because of their mercurial flighty nature can lack focus if they don’t reign it in somehow. This flightiness can give others the impression that they are sometimes superficial. You get bored veryyy quickly. Because of this, you need a lot of mental stimulation. Geminis are life-long learners, they are simply in love with knowledge. Need to be sure to keep that devil and angel [your twins] aligned so as to not make enemies or be seen as two-faced.

Cancer signature

If Cancer is your signature sign in astrology, you are a gentle soul. However, you become easily overwhelmed with others. Cancer is a crab and will retreat into its shell if it’s not in the mood to deal. Can be moody and or need a lot of time on your own, in the safety of your home. They like to be surrounded by family members. You are soft and caring. HIGHKEY intuitive and can sense the emotions of others easily [especially when developed.] They are extremely protective of their loved ones. Will pinch you with their claws if you mess with them or someone they care about.

Leo signature

If your signature sign is Leo, you have a big heart. Quite warm and sincere. Famous for its generosity. They, like Jupiterians like to give- especially in terms of love and affection. Leos need luxury around them. They are the royalty of the zodiac, right? They enjoy being around others, making people laugh and cheering them up. Have lots of energy but a big ego to go with it. They love attention and might court it often or simply get it naturally since the Sun is in the mix here. Too much of the negative manifestation of Leo can make one prone to arrogance, bossiness, and boastfulness. It’s important to realize that this wounds people around you. If you show others your soft side, they will give you all the love you crave.

Virgo signature

If Virgo is your signature sign, you are modest, effective, and helpful. Deeply analytical and process information at the drop of a hat. Productivity is very important to you. Virgos have a high attention to detail, and they solve problems by analyzing them. Rational and cerebral thinking is one of your greatest strengths. Quite reliable and have a strong sense of duty. Can be hyper-critical and a bit too compulsive in their tendencies. Prone to nervousness and anxious habits. However, this sign has a very powerful brain. They prefer thinking over feeling, which can be sometimes challenging for them.

Libra signature

If your signature sign is Libra, you’ll be quite elegant. Venusian, baby. No matter what they do, they’ll make sure to do it with their face on and in their best attire. Libras are graceful and charming. They have great social skills, and they get along with everyone. However, sometimes they don’t stand up for themselves even when they should or because they wish to avoid conflict at all costs. They can also be a bit superficial which might be perceived as “fake” by some. There’s a deep need to be liked. Quite good taste though. Keen artistic talents. Great diplomats and would do well as an ambassador or even in HR [actually, please think about getting into Human Resources, there are way too many pieces of shit in this particular department]. This sign strives to create harmony, both visually and in interpersonal relationships.

Scorpio signature

If your signature sign is Scorpio, you possess the qualities of Pluto. You have a deep mind, are intense and probing with perhaps a bit of a mysterious aura. You make a perfect detective. Nothing stays hidden. Quite loyal and passionate with intense emotions. Intuition is superb, but you are very sensitive at the same time. Scorpio can become obsessed with the object of their love. May be prone to jealousy in love or be quite ruthless and vengeful if slighted. It’s important NOT to get on this person’s bad side because Scorpios rarely [if ever] forgive. Is probably very sexual or unmatched in bed. Might end up rich [Pluto=wealth]. Might become a Mafia-boss. Might become a dictator. Might run a funeral home. Depends, lol.

Sagittarius signature

Expansion. Jupiter rules this sign and as a result one with this signature loves new experiences that aid them in understanding the world better. Optimistic and with a great sense of humor, people love being around them. They have high energy levels and they are always on the go. If your signature sign is Sagittarius, you have an unshakable faith in the universe. Philosophical prowess and an open mind with a streak of jolliness The sign of philosophy, and always looking towards the bright side. Might be blunt, unattached, and a bit dramatic or louder than most, however, lucky breaks might come often or in the nick of time. Makes sense since Jupiter rules luck.

Capricorn signature

If Capricorn is your signature sign, there are significant earthy vibes to you, no matter your actual sign. Said native is reliable, efficient, and incredibly meticulous, and high-key ambitious. There’s a great need for success that borderlines on obsession. They are empowered by executive achievements and accomplishments. Order, structure, and discipline are paramount. Capricorns are famous in astrology for being known as hard workers who put a lot of effort into achieving their goals. They do not give up. They will climb the ladder, do or die. Typically will be quite successful in life. Often accused of being cold or cruel. Hell, they might be. Still, they are in need and are deserving of love and commitment. Reliable in a relationship once they decide to stop restricting themselves of affection and give in.

Aquarius signature

Unique and eccentric, you always notice it when you meet an Aquarian. If Aquarius is your signature sign, you prefer to live life on your own terms. Freedom is your most important value in life. You enjoy being around like-minded people, even though your relationships are usually not of an emotional nature. Aquarius is the sign of brilliance in astrology. I always say that Aquarians have the highest levels of analytical intelligence but sometimes get written off because they can be weirdos lol. Mad scientist vibes. Wonderful ideas, fascinated by everything new and modern. Tech geeks. Aquarius is also the sign of humanitarian ideals. If you have this sign strong in your chart, you have a strong sense of justice.

Pisces signature

If Pisces is your signature sign, you have a very strong intuition. Quite sensitive to the point that all that white noise can easily overwhelm them. Hard to make out reality sometimes. Hence, Pisces needs to spend a lot of time alone in suspension thinking about things. Compassionate and have a strong sympathy for those suffering. Great healing abilities and an even greater imagination and creative streak. Probably feels quite good around water and can have a psychic knack with animals. Can be very musical and often have strong artistic talents. Be sure to tether yourself to this world so as to not float off. Escapism is okay but don’t escape reality too much. You may have come from another realm but in this incarnation, you were placed here for a reason. You belong here on earth with us ;).

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cherry-glade · 4 years ago

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only ever pain (until you)

pairing: jason todd x reader

summary: it’s been a while since this has happened—jason’s been having a good run—but life is always out to get him, and soon enough, he's curled up into a ball of nothing but pain, aching muscle and brittle bone. luckily, like the last few times, he has you now to help him get through it.

warnings: some angst, jason being mostly touch-averse in this, jason also being quite self-deprecating, sensory overload, hurt/comfort, ptsd and hallucinations, chronic illness (fibromyalgia).

w/c: 4786 words

Jason doesn't know why it happens—maybe it's a side effect of either the Lazarus Pit, or of living in a world that he doesn’t belong in, where he should technically be dead, or perhaps it's just the trauma from the Joker's beating coming back to haunt him—but some days, it's as though all Jason is capable of feeling is pure, unadulterated pain.

He knows that it’s going to be one of those days from the minute he wakes up, wincing and turning away as the sun peeks through the window and makes his eyes sting, even though they’re still closed. He tries to roll over onto his stomach, not realising that the sheets are tangled up around his legs, and ends up falling off the bed with a dull thud, knee bashing into the floor.

Shoving the sheets away, Jason pushes himself up into a sitting position, stretching his leg out and noticing the faint redness to his skin, but he doesn’t take much note of it as he rubs at his surprisingly sore knee, preoccupied by the sudden throbbing pain in his head and behind his right eye, a sure sign of an incoming migraine.

Groaning, he stands up, damn near clinging onto the bedside table for support as he picks up his phone up and taps on the screen to check the time. It’s nearly noon, so you must already be at work. Jason usually wakes up on time though for you to kiss him goodbye, and the fact that he didn’t today is just another sign that things are probably going to end up going to shit.

Jason’s legs feel weak as he walks to the bathroom. He swears he can feel each individual fibre in the carpeting, rough against his feet. Jason pushes on and relieves himself before washing his hands and splashing cold water onto his face, nearly collapsing into a heap on the floor, but he manages to catch himself before he cracks his head open on the sink.

”You look like a piece of shit that got turned into roadkill, and are very lucky that Y/N isn’t here right now to witness this,” Jason says to his reflection in the mirror above the sink as he leans forward, noting his bloodshot eyes and the bags underneath them, skin paler than usual.

He blinks hard at the mirror and then stumbles out towards your kitchen, regretting not putting any socks on first as his bare feet come into the contact with the tiled floor, cold and leeching any remaining heat from his body. Jason fills the kettle up with water and switches it on, studying the darkening bruise on his knee as he waits for it to come to a boil.

Surprisingly enough, the bruise is already reddish in colour, almost verging on purple and tender to the touch as Jason prods at it with his fingers like a curious child, hissing at the pain radiating from it. He tries his best to ignore the dull ache as he makes himself a quick cup of jasmine tea, specially bought for him by Alfred, fingers trembling all the while.

Jason has to pick up his mug with both hands, taking a moment to let the warmth of the tea seep through his body, and then makes the mistake of taking a step back towards the bedroom. He vaguely recalls having a conversation with Tim and Damian, a while ago now, about if he would rather walk on heated coals or a trail of Legos. Remembers Damian absentmindedly mentioning that he’d already done the former as part of his training in the League of Assassins.

Remembers chiming in himself and saying that he’d done the same, then having to squirm away from Dick when he’d gotten that oddly sad look on his face as soon as Damian mentioned it—that look that said Jason was going to get a hug whether he liked it or not. Jason had barely escaped by pushing Damian into Dick’s arms instead, and Dick had apparently been appeased by that as he curled around Damian like an octopus, still giving Jason puppy eyes.

This, right now? Taking this single step? It feels infinitely worse than both options combined.

Jason grits his teeth and forces himself through walking the few paces to your shared bedroom, feeling like he’s about to collapse onto the floor the whole way. He has to take a break when he reaches the doorway, clinging to the doorframe with one hand, and tries to keep his other hand to stay as still as physically possible so it doesn’t spill, even as the handle of the mug feels bruising against his palm.

Jason takes a moment to breathe in deep, resisting the urge to claw at his own neck and chest as his pulse quickens and his heart beats harder against his ribs, as the insistent buzz under his skin grows even more insistent, like it’s trying to seek his attention over the throb of his migraine, over the ever-growing pain in his knee and his trembling hands and his dry throat and chapped lips and the keen desire to have you by his side.

Jason isn’t even exaggerating when he says it feels like it’s been years when he finally reaches the bed, practically falling down onto it. With shaky hands, he brings the mug to his mouth, breathing in the subtle sweetness through his nose before taking a sip of the tea, regretting it immediately when it feels as though molten lava is being poured down his throat, clogging it up to the point that Jason’s nose burns when he tries to force down the urge to choke.

Instead of being stupid and trying to drink any more of it, Jason decides to set the mug down on the bedside table so he can wait for it to cool down, his hand jerking when he sees something other than tea in it. Jason stares helplessly, frozen in place as liquid spills over the rim of the mug and trickles down its side, leaving a faint stain on it, the colour reminiscent of dried blood. He blinks when his eyes start to water, and the tea is its usual colour again, a rich, golden caramel.

Jason stares for a little while longer and then decides to get back into bed so he can wait, for both his tea and you. Curling up into a ball is easier said than done, especially when he can feel every single hair on his body rubbing against the sheets when he pulls them close to his chest, then yanks the covers over his head like he’s trying to smother the pain as he squeezes his eyes shut.

His last thought before unknowingly succumbing to the darkness of sleep, selfish as it might be, is that though he hates being so reliant upon you, though it makes him feel weak and not so different from a leech, asking for everything from you and giving nothing in return, he wants to hear your voice telling him that he will get through this, and that you’ll be with him every step of the way.

***

Jason awakes from his restless slumber to the sound of someone knocking on the bedroom door, even though he remembers leaving it open. He knows it’s you though, because you’re the only one who ever bothers knocking anymore, even if the door is open, in an attempt to give him the space he sometimes needs. He tries his best to focus through the pain and realises that you’re knocking in a pattern, the same pattern you established with each other a while ago to ask if he was okay.

Jason nearly bites through his lip to stop himself from crying out as he reaches an arm out from under the covers to knock on the wood of the bedside table thrice, the nauseatingly coppery taste of blood lingering on his tongue. He wants you to tell him everything is going to be okay, even though he knows it isn’t going to be that way for a while, if only to delude himself into thinking so.

“Jay? Are you having a day?” You call out softly, and the ringing in his ears doesn’t stop him from hearing you shuffle your feet. Jason ignores the sound of his teeth grinding together as he summons the energy to peek out at you, squinting at how you’re stood in the doorway, one hand on the doorknob with both feet firmly outside of the room. Somewhere deep inside him, past all the parts that scream with pain and hurt and anger, it warms him to see that you’ll still respect his boundaries.

He nods at you, regretting it when his migraine comes back with a vengeance. It feels like someone’s hammering at the inside of his head, trying to break out of it. “You okay with touching?” You whisper, finally stepping into the room.

He isn’t sure. Touching his thumb to his chin makes his skin burst into a flurry of sensation, and Jason only refrains from scratching at his face because he knows that you know he wants to do it, going by the stern look on your face. “Can try, but… not skin,” he rasps out, wincing at the way his voice sounds. It’s hoarse and raspy, like he’s been screaming for hours. He could’ve been, in his sleep.

You come closer, casually tugging a pair of gloves out of your pocket and sliding them on. Other than the fact that they’re very soft, the gloves aren’t anything special. When you first found out about the pain, it had been Jason wearing them so he wouldn’t scratch himself, but both of you quickly found out that the material was far too itchy against his sensitive skin, and now it’s you who wears them so that you can help him without accidentally touching his skin and sending him into a frenzy.

Jason watches you as you step in front of the bedside table and curl your hand around a mug that he hadn’t noticed until then. “Jasmine tea?” You ask him, and Jason holds his shaking hands out to take it, but you move it away and put the mug back down, shaking your head. “It’s gone cold. You must have made it before you went to sleep.”

“I—don’t remember,” Jason murmurs, suddenly feeling very lost. He thought you had made it for him. Your mouth twitches into a small frown as you study his face, and your hand rises like you’re about to touch him, faltering midway before falling back down to your side.

“I’m going to get you some water,” you say, waiting for Jason’s nod before leaving to do just that, and Jason knows you’re coming right back, but he somehow misses you even more now than he did when you were at work. His shoulders are tense until you return to his side with a small glass, half-full of water.

“Do you want me to hold it for you—”

“Can do it myself,” Jason interrupts you, insistent on doing at least this without having to be so dependent on you. But once the glass is in his hands, water keeps sloshing over the sides, his teeth clacking into it because of how much his hands are shaking. Your gloved hands come up to support his, holding the glass steady, and he does his best to shoot you a thankful look as he takes a careful sip. He’s sure it’s lukewarm, but it feels like shards of ice scraping against his throat, almost making Jason choke.

Once the glass is empty, you set it down with a clink and crouch down next to the bed, facing him. “Have you eaten?” You ask, and Jason just about manages to shake his head, feeling sick. Your frown deepens momentarily before smoothing out entirely as you stand up again, taking a few steps back so that you’re not looming over him.

His skin is itchy. He feels dirty. Jason doesn’t realise that he’s scratching until you say his name sternly, startling him when you place a gentle hand on top of his. Your eyes scan over his face, and you must see something on it because you straighten up, a somewhat determined look in your eyes as you slowly peel the covers off him, baring Jason’s body to the cold darkness of the bedroom.

“Bath time,” you tell him, a small smile on your face. Jason shivers violently.

“Dirty? Am I dirty?” He asks, vaguely aware of the fact that he’s slurring his words, focussing more on how hot his face feels. Your smile wavers and it feels like his blood is boiling inside him as you shake your head, muttering something to yourself about him getting worse.

“But—”

Jason looks down at his hands, which only shake even more when he sees crimson pooling in the crooks between his fingers, staining his cuticles red and drying into the lines of his cracked palms. Red drips from his fingertips, staining the sheets beneath him. He doesn’t want to touch you, to dirty you with his red hands.

“They’re dirty,” Jason says, showing you his hands, and you shake your head again.

“You’re not dirty,” you say out loud this time, looking Jason in the eye. “You’re having a bath because it’ll help with the pain,” you explain to him like he’s a child, but Jason can’t find it in himself to get annoyed. He shivers again, but this time it’s because of the sudden cold he feels, because of the goosebumps rising along the surface of his bare arms as the buzz under his skin roars for his attention.

“I’m not?” Jason asks, still hesitant, and you repeat yourself as your eyes flicker over his face, telling him that he isn’t dirty.

“Come on,” you gently coax him until Jason eventually pulls himself out of the safety of the bed, a whimper escaping from between his clenched teeth when his feet touch the floor and pain shoots through his body. Your eyes are glued to him, concern clearly written all over your face as Jason battles his way to the bathroom and then starts to undress as you fill the bathtub, resisting the urge to scratch as the fabric of his clothes drags uncomfortably over his skin.

He studies his trembling hands as you pour some odd-looking powder into the water, dipping your hand in and swirling it all together until you’re left with a slimy mixture. You turn to him with an expectant look on your face like you’re waiting for him to do something, and then it clicks, and Jason’s nose wrinkles as he presses his lips together in a thin line.

“Sweetheart, you need to actually get in for it to have any effect,” you remind him, a teasing undertone to your voice. Jason pulls a face and steps up to the tub, wincing as the muscles in his legs sprain when he tries to swing his leg over the edge to do as he’s been told. But you come up next to him, holding one of his hands as lightly as you can to support him as he manages to climb into the tub, slowly sinking down until he’s sat down and almost fully submerged.

For a moment, it’s almost too overwhelming for him, and then the continuous sensations of hot and cold and pain and numbness, of all too much and nowhere near enough, they all slowly ease. Jason sinks a little lower into the water, hands shooting out of the water to grip onto the sides of the bathtub so he can ground himself as he closes his eyes and leans his head back against the wall, slowly breathing out through his nose.

Jason isn’t sure if he’s relieved or terrified by how easy it was to get his body to just shut up, but doesn’t ponder on it, revelling instead at how he can now simply feel without hurting so much.

He must zone out for quite some time though because he ends up tuning back in to the sound of your voice, smooth and familiar as you tell him about your day at work. You aren’t holding his hand anymore, but are still sat on the rug next to the bathtub, watching him with sharp eyes.

Once again, Jason is reminded of the fact that you’re too good for him, too good for someone with blood on his hands and vengeance on his mind, for someone who is capable of feeling nothing but anger in his heart. Once again, he wonders why you choose to stay, why you keep choosing him even though everyone else in his life does the opposite.

There’s an odd look on your face when Jason turns to look at you. You don’t say anything, not pushing him, but wait for him to speak in his own time. He’s fiercely reminded of how much he loves you and swallows down the lump in his throat which threatens to choke him.

“They’re red,” he finally croaks out, and his tongue feels too big for his mouth. “My hands are red, and they’re always gonna be red with people’s fucking blood, because that’s all I’m good at. That’s all I can do.”

“Jay—” you start, frowning, but he cuts you off with a shake of his head which makes him feel like he’s about to throw up.

His bloody hands shake. “I’m never going to be clean,” Jason whispers, but even that is too loud for his overly sensitive ears. “When people look at Red Hood, at me, that’s all they are ever going to see. Blood on my hands.”

“Jason, baby,” you murmur, and Jason doesn’t think he’s ever heard your voice so soft before. He turns his head to look down when your gloved fingers graze the tips of his, even though it makes him feel like his brain is pounding violently against the inside of his skull.

You’re asking if you can hold his hand, and Jason takes in a deep breath as he slowly uncurls his fingers from the death grip they previously had around the edge of the bathtub, then flips his hand over so his palm is facing upwards.

You don’t cover it with your own like he’s expecting, but manage to slide yours underneath Jason’s so that you’re cradling his hand. He has to fight hard against the instinct to snatch it back.

“You wanna know what I see?” You ask as your eyes fall to his hand, but it isn’t really a question, and if it is, it’s clearly rhetorical. Your gloved fingertip traces over the lines in his palm, and it doesn’t hurt as much as Jason had thought it would. Instead of thousands of tiny needles piercing through the surface of his skin, it just feels like sharp little pinpricks of sensation.

He looks up at you, and you look right back at him with soft eyes and a softer smile. Jason’s pretty sure his heart skips a beat in the same way it always does when you smile at him. “I see strength, and I see kindness, and I see good.”

Your eyes lower to look at his hand again. “I see scars and callouses and bruised knuckles, and fingers that haven’t healed right after being broken. I see the hands of a man who has worked hard every single day of his life, who doesn’t stop working even though it hurts sometimes, because he’s just like that.”

Your eyes meet, and Jason has to take in deep breaths after seeing the fierce look in your eyes, even though his chest is painfully tight. “I see hands that disarm bombs and shoot guns and break assholes’ noses. Hands that help and protect and love, so, so much.”

Jason exhales shakily through his nose, eyes stinging. He doesn’t deserve this, he knows that. He’s known that he doesn’t deserve you since the moment he met you, since the first time he dared to utter your name with his unworthy tongue, to touch you with his undeserving hands.

But you make him sound like this wonderful person, somebody who actually deserves to have you and love you, and Jason doesn’t know how you can see him like that. He’s killed and tortured and hurt people, both physically and emotionally, he’s not good at all, but he couldn’t bear to lose you if you ever came to the realisation that you’ve been wrong about him all along.

Loving you is the best thing he’s ever done, the greatest choice he’s ever made, and the closest he can get to being good is being good to you. If that’s taken away from him, he’s doomed to an eternity of making the wrong choices.

“When I look at you, I see someone who is brave and gentle and strong. So strong,” you emphasise with the gentlest squeeze to his hand, almost like you think if you put too much pressure on it, his bones will cave in and shatter beneath your touch into dozens of tiny pieces, just like Jason’s heart does whenever you say things like this to him, like you actually mean it.

“I see a man who has been hurt by the world around him so many times, but he’s come out fighting every time.” Jason flinches at that, turning away so he can watch the condensation slowly forming on the tap, a single water droplet threatening to spill from it.

“Jay,” you whisper shakily, and he can hear the swell of emotion in your voice. But Jason knows that you’re not asking him to turn back and face you again, though he feels like he should so he can lean in and kiss any revealing traces of wetness off your face, even if it makes his lips feel like they’re being seared right off his face as he touches them to your soft skin.

“I wish you could see what I do when I look at you,” you admit, eyes no longer burning into the side of his face as you steady your voice again, sounding like you’re determined to prove it to him, that he’s worthy of your love and time.

“You deserve every good thing in this cursed world that we live in, and I wish I could give you that, but I can’t,” you say, voice cracking halfway through your sentence, and you sound truly heartbroken about it, about the fact that—that Jason deserves more, and he’s not getting it.

The water droplet leaks from the tap and lands on the bottom of the tub with a faint splat. Jason doesn’t hear it because he’s too busy staring at your glossy eyes, tears threatening to spill over the delicate tips of your eyelashes and down your face.

You blink and a tear runs down your cheek, just one, leaving a faint streak on your face as you breathe in deeply through your nose, trying to pull yourself together before you speak again. “All I can give you is my love and my time, and hope that that’s enough for you.”

You look back down at his hand cradled in yours again and there’s a faint smile on your face, like you know something he doesn’t. “These hands which you think are red? The same hands which you think will only ever ruin everything they touch? They’ve never hurt me.”

“These hands right here?” You say, shaking his ever so slightly, but not so much that it hurts. “They hold me when I’m happy and when I’m sad, when I’m angry and when I need to feel safe.” Your eyes meet his again, bright with warmth and determination. “My heart is in these hands, Jason, and you’ve never done it wrong. Ever.” Jason briefly considers arguing with you but he really doesn’t have the energy to—this bath is making him strangely sleepy.

But you must see the intent in his eyes because you shake your head and continue, just as stubborn as he is. That isn’t a bad thing, not at all. It’s why you work so well together.

“When I got into a relationship with you, I trusted you to take care of my heart, and that’s exactly what you’ve done,” you explain. “So all I’m asking is that you trust me to take care of you, because I know you deserve it, whether you agree with me or not.”

Jason stares at you and you stare right back, your smile growing ever wider as Jason’s eyes dart away and his cheeks warm slightly. He loves you so much.

“I think you ought to know,” Jason starts, meeting your eyes as water trails slowly down the back of his neck, making him want to claw at his skin, to press his nails into it and drag them along the surface until it’s raw and itchy and as red as his bleeding heart. “If it weren’t for the fact that the thought of touching someone’s skin makes me want to peel the fucking flesh right off my bones, I’d be kissing the shit out of you right now.”

Your wet eyes go soft again, as does your trembling smile. “I appreciate the sentiment,” you laugh, undeniably fond, and even after all this time, it makes Jason want to squirm a little. He refrains, but just barely.

You stare at each other for a little while longer until you speak up again, asking if you can wash his hair. It’s not that he needs to have his hair washed, but he enjoys the feeling of your fingers in his hair, adores the sound of your voice as you tell him a story or sing to him to replace the silence or distract him from the thoughts racing around his mind.

So naturally, he agrees, and soon enough, he’s facing the wall with you balanced on the edge of the bathtub, warning him before you scoop up a handful of clean water and pour it over his hair. You start to hum a simple song, briefly pausing to tell that you’re going to shampoo his hair before continuing.

He tenses up, trying to prepare himself for the feeling of being overstimulated when your hands land in his hair, but warmth tingles through him instead in the same way that it does whenever you touch him with no plans other than to love him, and really, Jason was a fool to expect anything else, seeing as you’ve only ever touched him with the best intentions in mind.

“I love you,” Jason murmurs quietly, and you don’t tease him by telling him you know that like you sometimes do. Like Jason himself did when he finally became comfortable with the fact that he loves you and you love him too.

In fact, you don’t say anything at all, still humming that same song as you gently massage your fingers through his thick hair, paying particular attention to his white streak. It occurs to Jason that maybe you didn’t hear him.

Or maybe you just somehow know like you always do that this was something he needed to say, that it was something he needed to learn for himself without finding out that you knew how he felt before he did, something that he needed to come to terms with so he could finally put a name to the way you make his heart try to punch out of his rib cage and right into your hands whenever you smile at him or say his name or praise him, or kiss his tears away and take him into your arms after he’s had a nightmare without a word of complaint.

“I love you,” he repeats anyway, hoping for you to understand, and you try your best, leaning in to press your mouth to the wet skin on the back of his neck, mouthing words against it that Jason can’t quite make out, but he’s pretty sure he can have a good guess. It makes him shiver again, but in a good way this time.

“I love you,” he says a third time, and now you get it. Now you hear what he’s really saying.

I love you. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for always choosing me. Thank you for helping me through this.

Your mouth curls into a smile against his skin. “I love you too, Jason,” you whisper, voice tender. And Jason hears what you’re saying too.

I love you. Thank you for letting me.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #dc #sfw #my fic

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thisbrokenmask · 4 years ago

Text

Matching Pair

pairing: female reader x Kim Namjoon

genre: fluff, very light angst

word count: 2,266

warnings: brief mentions of struggling to conceive, hella fluff

summary: you return from a day of shopping with a surprise for your husband.

a/n: so, this fic is unbeta’d and was written on my phone, but I was too excited to write it after getting some very wonderful news today - I found out I’m going to become an auntie for the very first time next summer! I’m beyond excited, and it ended up giving me inspiration for how to finally use the ‘Fuzzy Boots’ prompt on my @btsholidaybingo card!

“Joonie?” you call out for your husband as you close the front door of your home, already feeling the heat of the house warming you from the growing winter chill outside. Gently putting the shopping bags containing your few new purchases down to the side, you take off your shoes and your coat and put them in the closet by the front door. You don’t hear an answering call from Namjoon, but you do find his house keys still in the little cubby in the closet when you hang yours back up, so you know he’s home.

Heart fluttering and excitement rolling in your tummy, you grab the handles of your shopping bags and head upstairs, your bare feet sinking into the carpet of the stairs with quiet relief. Even though you decided against heels today, the several hours you spent searching for the perfect items has still left them aching and you once again pat yourself on the back for choosing a thick pile when you decorated the house.

You bite your bottom lip to try and hold back your grin as you head to your bedroom to deposit all but one of your shopping bags, although you can’t help the slight skip in your walk as you once again go over what’s about to happen. Leaving your discarded purchases at the foot of the bed to sort out later, you clutch the most important one tightly as you seek out your spouse.

Surprisingly, he’s not in his home studio, the small soundproof room normally your first port of call on the rare days Namjoon doesn’t head into the BigHit buildings to work. No, instead you find him in the little snug-come-library at the end of the hall, a slight dip in his brow from how concentrated he is on the words in front of him.

The library was a room you both insisted on having when you found this house, as you both needed somewhere to store your vast collections of books you had amassed over your lives. The custom floor-to-ceiling shelving had been fitted perfectly for the room, with a few open spaces left for artwork to break up the visual of hundreds of book spines.

While your respective hoards of literature had combined, there were still traces of your individual hobbies nestled among them. Several small houseplants contributed pockets of green and, as Namjoon pointed out, a sort of poetic contradiction to the many books you owned; the living among the dead, as it were. He tended to them daily, whereas your offerings required much less attention.

In your many years of travelling before and after meeting Namjoon, you’d developed the habit of collecting one small trinket from each country or city you visited. Whether they represented particular landmarks, native animals or cultural figures, you always brought home something to remember each place by, and now many of those trinkets filled the spaces left behind by oddly-shaped books or accompanied a bonsai as it grew between the shelves.

In the centre of the room, on top of the plush mauve rug you’d fallen in love with at first sight, sat two armchairs. They didn’t match each other, but matched you and your husband instead. You’d gotten the idea from UP!, knowing when you’d first seen Carl and Ellie’s individual chairs that you wanted to do that with your future partner. And the library became the perfect place for these perfectly mismatched chairs, another way to show how the two of you had come together in this room that housed so many of your joint passions.

Your chair, currently empty, was the plushest wingback chair you’d ever seen; a beautiful, royal blue velvet chair that made you feel like you were in a house that could be found in a Jane Austen novel. Your husband’s chair, in which he was now sat, was burnt orange in colour, square and simple in shape, with arms curled over to remove any harsh lines. You’d hated it, initially, but the more you’d seen it on the shop floor and then saw your husband lean back into its cushions, the more you decided that it suited him, and that was what mattered. Despite its simplicity, it was a bit too big for you to sit in comfortably, although you would often climb into it and burrow under several blankets when he was away.

You’d now grown accustomed to the barrage of colours and styles in your little library, a fondness for the apparent chaos that still shocked newcomers, making you giggle every time.

As you so often find yourself doing, you take a second to admire Namjoon in his studious reading pose: one leg resting across the knee of the other, his right elbow propped up on the armchair and his hand cradling his chin, index finger extended across his lips in contemplation. His left hand cradles his book seemingly effortlessly, his simple gold wedding band glinting in the warm orange of the afternoon winter sun that pours in through the window across the room. It’s still the only golden piece of jewellery he wears, and it still makes your heart bloom every time you catch sight of it.

In the split second you’ve taken in his appearance, he’s become aware of your presence. Only his eyes move at first, flicking up from the page to the door to see who’s walked in. When he sees you standing in the doorway, however, he immediately slips his bookmark into place and puts the volume down on the little table between the chairs. The ease and immediacy with which he gives you his whole attention never fails to make you feel a little giddy.

“Hey,” Namjoon’s expression melts into his warmest smile, all traces of his previous concentration vanished at the sight of his wife. His eyes briefly drop to the bag in your hand before returning to you. “Have fun shopping?”

You nod as he extends his hand towards you, slipping your palm into his and letting him gently pull you close. He sits you in his lap, one arm curled around the back of your waist and the other gently resting across your thighs, his hand melding to match the curve of your flesh. The warmth of his palm is noticeable even through your jeans, rippling throughout your body like a breeze kissing the surface of a lake.

“Is that for me?” he nods towards the bag by his feet, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to your temple.

“Nope,” you smile, then pause. “Well, I guess it kinda is. Wanna see?”

If Namjoon is confused, he doesn’t show it. He loves the way you think, loves how you can see something completely different from him when you both look at the same art pieces on your gallery trips, loves how you can find even the loosest connections between two ideas in a way he’d never thought of. He doesn’t always understand you at first, but he loves that about you, so he waits patiently for you to explain.

You lift the bag into your lap, the hand across your thighs moving to secure it in place while you open it. You turn it away from him as you pull out the contents, but he’s not even trying to peep inside; his eyes are focused on you, on the little ways your expression changes when you get thoughtful, or excited, or anxious, and right now you’re a bit of all three.

“Ta-dah!” you singsong proudly, presenting him with a pair of fuzzy, light brown slipper boots. You try not to giggle as his expression falters slightly, although he quickly covers up his obvious confusion with bemused intrigue, gaze jumping between you and the boots as he tries to figure out what the hell is going on.

“These… are for me?” he can tell just by looking at them that the boots are way too small for him, they’re definitely your size, and he’s struggling to figure out how they could be ‘kinda’ for him.

“No, these ones are mine, silly!” you laugh, gently bopping the tip of his nose with your finger. The relieved sigh that falls past his lips only keeps your laughter rolling and he loves the sound, cheeks dumpling as he grins up at you.

“Of course,” he agrees easily, smirking down at the boots as you gently run your fingers through the fluffy material, then cocks his eyebrow. “So how am I involved in this?” he pauses, then tilts his head to one side. “You’re not going to wear them to bed, are you? I know I said your feet are cold but I actually don’t mind it so much anymore-”

“These ones are mine,” you say, cutting him off, holding up your boots for emphasis before twisting in his lap to put them on the floor. His hand on your waist reflexively holds you tighter to keep you from toppling.

When you then look at him with a smile he can only describe as mischievous, he knows he’s fucked: he’s a sucker for your playfulness, willingly walking into even your silliest pranks just to see your face light up and hear the melody of your laughter when you celebrate your victory.

His mind whirs through every option he can think of that could somehow relate those fluffy little boots to himself. Maybe you’ve bought him new slippers too, but like your mismatched chairs they’ll be different styles, perfectly suiting each of you in a way that makes them work together. Maybe you’ve actually bought him matching ones and he can’t decide what will be worse: having to wear them to please you or refuse to wear them to please himself. He feels the smallest flicker of heat in his cheeks when he considers fluffy handcuffs, but he dismisses that though when he remembers how your gaze darkens whenever you get out the pairs you already own rather than brightens, like it has done right now.

He’s at a loss, but you don’t make him wait much longer before you grant him an explanation.

“They didn’t have matching daddy boots, unfortunately, but-” he doesn’t have time to register the term when you pull out the remaining items in the bag with a flourish. “They did have these matching baby boots, and I just couldn’t resist!”

He stares down at the little pair of fuzzy boots, the same light brown colour as yours. They’re barely bigger than your palm as they sit side by side and he doesn’t know how something so small can knock all of the air from his body.

He can’t speak, can’t swallow, almost can’t breathe. He can only stare.

You watch as Namjoon’s features drop and give him a few moments to process the sight in front of him. You’re sure your lip is about to bleed with how hard you’re biting into it, desperate to cry and cheer and celebrate with him but wanting to give him his processing time.

When he doesn’t say anything after a longer time than you were expecting, you begin to worry he’s upset rather than shocked. When he finally speaks, though, his tone is so level you genuinely think he’s angry.

“Y/n,” he says, gaze lifting to meet your eyes and locking onto them. You feel his body grow tense beneath you, the grip on your waist tightening and releasing as he battles with the emotions building in his chest. “Who are these for?” His throat bobs with a dry swallow and you feel your stomach drop a little bit, suddenly realising how this may have come across to him.

You and Namjoon got married nearly two years ago now, and you’ve been trying for a baby for just over a year. During that time, Namjoon has found more than one or two bags of baby clothes tucked away in your side of the closet, onesies and booties in varying designs and colours despite the fact that none of your attempts had been successful. His heart had broken for you every time, knowing how desperate you were to become a mother, but, despite his own deep-seated desire to be a father, he’d insisted you return the items each time and forbade you from bringing home anymore baby items that weren’t gifts for expecting friends or relatives. It was painful for him, too, to keep seeing the negative pregnancy tests in the bathroom trash, but he knew that it would only hurt more if you kept the clothes with no baby to fill them.

It had been months since you’d last even looked at the baby aisles in any stores, but today was the day things changed.

“They’re for us,” you told him gently, the words barely above a whisper yet filling the space between you. You see the tears begin to well in his eyes at the same time his grip on you tightens one last time. He stares up at you, eyes wide and watery and full of hope, and you let the widest grin loose on your lips.

Leaning forward to touch your forehead to his, both yours and Namjoon’s eyes fall closed. Shuddering breaths push at the air between you, your hand pressing to his chest to feel the way his heartbeat gallops under your palm. Your own tears start to glide over the apples of your cheeks as you finally let the weight of your news overwhelm you, knowing that you’re both finally going to see your dreams come to life.

“They’re for our baby.”

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prompt-master · 4 years ago

Text

Bear Trap (Part 1/3)

Request fill for @hibiscuswolverine and art done by @doodles-by-noodles

The world was starting to heal.

Little by little, everyone who survived Hope's Peak Academy's killing game was bringing about change to the world. It had only just started, and they likely wouldn't live to see their vision fully realized, but there was hope. Hope the world hadn't seen since the tragedy broke out in the first place.

Yep, Naegi Makoto had a lot of work to do, but he also already had so much to be proud of. He and the survivors had already proven themselves to adapt to a world that was nothing like the one they left behind. They had been given a warning from Enoshima Junko herself, but even with the knowledge of killer robots and rampaging despair-induced rioters nothing could really prepare them for life on the outside.

Honestly, they had never expected to make it to where they were right now. Proud members of the Future Foundation, able to work together with the higher ups to take down the biggest threats against the world's progression. It felt like just yesterday they were sleeping in the rubble of what once were apartments, tightly packed together in case anything were to break in. And now Makoto stood proud and tall, going over his next mission on video call with a member of one of the higher divisions.

"I suppose I shouldn't be terribly surprised that the Ultimate Hope would be so adamant on these matters."

Makoto smiled, still as strong and inspiring as it had been back in the killing game, "Really, you don't have to call me that. I'm nothing special, just Naegi is fine."

She completely ignored him, looking over the notes he'd sent to her one last time. He and Aoi had accidentally discovered a distress call from a group of survivors in an unsafe area. There was no way he could ignore something like that, he wouldn't ignore any possibility that someone was suffering like his class did. Even if there was an equal possibility that it was a trap.

"Well, your plan asks for Ultimate Detective Kirigiri Kyoko and Ultimate Affluent Progeny Togami Byakuya to go with you. With those two, plus the Ultimate Hope, equipped with hacking guns then I see no reason to be concerned for any mishaps. Your mission is approved."

Makoto's smile widened at that, feeling a rush of pride and hope at her words, "We won't let you down! Promise!"

She didn't even look up at him, simply humming to let him know she heard. But he could tell, there was a slight smile on her face. Makoto managed to melt his fair share of hearts even if he couldn't explain how. The call blinked off, and Makoto shut his laptop gently, but with no regard to what it was running.

He let out a loud sigh, slouching back into his chair. Any and all office calls felt so nerve wracking. Each one held its own weight in importance. Every exchange oversaw the future. He pulled his arms over his head, stretching them as far as they could go.

He could already feel himself getting pumped up. A small, prideful smirk snuck it's way onto his face. The plan wasn't anything extreme, but he knew with his friends by his side it would all be ok. They were meant to go together in a group so that they could protect themselves in the event of a trap or other unforeseen circumstances. The distress call came from a fallen city mostly blocked off by a collapsed building. They would drop off inside the city's bounds, and continue on foot to find any survivors they could. They knew there would be some despaired within, but that was a given anywhere they went now.

It would all be worth it to save them.

Now he just had to tell Byakuya and Kyoko the good news

It was clear to anyone near the survivors that Byakuya, Kyoko, and Makoto were a force to be reckoned with. While the general public has no qualms with calling Makoto the leader of the group, it was more so all three of them were coleading. Each taking charge in their own way, from the start of their new lives to now. The three of them were all incredibly smart in their own ways and their combined skills lead to a team that could likely conquer any despair they faced. But it took an even closer eye to see the emotional connection the three shared with each other.

Makoto walked in front, leading since he had heard the distress call in the first place. It was certainly an interesting relationship that the three had. Although Makoto certainly didn't see himself as the leading type it seemed that Byakuya and Kyoko both trusted his guidance entirely. And he did the same for them. There was no way to describe the significance that lay underneath the floorboards of their bond. For the two most emotionally shut off of the survivors to so openly trust him? To Makoto that was enough to lay their hearts out in the open for him to see. And not to mention…

Makoto glanced back at the two. Byakuya was messing around with his hacking gun, glasses slipping down his nose, and hair nearly hiding his eyes from Makoto's view. Kyoko was taking in her surroundings, trying to figure out sooner rather than later if this whole thing was just a trap as suspected. Her eyes may be void of emotion but the color and warmth was vast. Makoto faced forward again, his face feeling just a bit hot.

They were both really pretty.

No, no he can't focus on his silly crushes. Yes, crushes plural. Because Makoto's sensitive heart was so big he managed to give it away to two different people. That didn't matter right now though, because the focus was on the mission.

The town was about as decimated as it looked from the outside. It reminded him of his first experiences out in the new world, making him wonder how many survivors might be hiding under rubble, scared to come out. So far they hadn't run into any sort of trouble. No robots, no despaired, no survivors. There was really...nothing here. It was starting to look more and more like a trap.

Makoto stopped walking at a split path, "The call said to find the convenience store but...I can't tell where to go since everything's been destroyed."

Byakuya came to stand by his side, "Not that it should matter much all things considered. Let's just get this over with so we can clear out those insane idiots and rebuild this place already."

"Togami-kun!" Makoto pouted, Byakuya may have softened up but he still had a habit of harsh thinking first, "don't say that. I'm sure there has to be someone here who needs saving. There's people who need to be rescued everywhere we go!"

"Indeed" Kyoko chimed in, "but it's not a bad line of thought. If we stage a rebuilding operation here then that increases our chances of finding survivors then if only a search team walked around."

Byakuya smirked, pushing up his glasses in that annoyingly arrogant way of his, "And to do that, we need to weed out the problems first no?"

"Yes...yes we do."

"Besides what would you rather do? Try to talk to the despaired? And get clubbed again?"

"It was one time, Togami-kun!"

Byakuya laughed, placing his hands on his hips as he looked around, "Come now, this way. All these buildings are too destroyed to make any sort of distinctions regardless. And by your sentimental logic we should be checking more than just the given location, wouldn't you agree."

Byakuya didn't wait for an answer, he walked ahead to begin searching the first building to their left. Makoto had to break into a light jog to catch up to him; damn your long legs Togami!

That marked the start of their exploration, building after building. They found nothing. Not to mention everywhere seemed like it has been residential, no sign of the store they were told the survivors were. Even Makoto felt like something was a little bit off but he couldn't quite place his finger on it. Regardless he kept up hope, he had heard those survivors speak with complete clarity in their voice. They had to be here. He wouldn't give up over a simple bad feeling.

Byakuya stepped over broken glass, moving further into the crumpled home he was currently inspecting. A surprisingly intact kitchenette caught his eye, and decided a thorough search was necessary without telling his company. Although they didn't need much prompting to understand when he went off trail again. Kyoko thought if he was going to focus on possible material goods stored away in this forgotten piece of life, then she could at least see if there was any current piece of life hiding away as well. Makoto stood at the door of the house. He'd given nothing more than a glance to Byakuya before turning toward the outdoors again. Looking for anything. Any sign of life lurking under the foreboding red sky.

Nothing.

He sighed, turning his attention down to what used to be a grass area. Not much was left of that, in fact it looked almost like any plant life besides the weeds in the street cracks were...set on fire. The ground had this grey ashy feeling to it. And when Makoto scuffed it with his shoe….yeah, that was definitely the remains of something burning. That was a good sign right? It meant that someone was alive. This couldn't have been that long ago.

Makoto opened his mouth to call for his friends, when a cold hand slapped over his mouth and forcefully tugged him backwards.

Huh

Huh?!

Makoto was immediately kicking and yelling. He bucked like a disturbed wild animal, trying everything he could to get out. Wiggling, kneeing, elbowing, even trying to bite the hand over his mouth but none disturbed the individual. The house was getting farther and farther away but his voice was too muffled to ever reach it. There was heavy breathing in his ear, the air wet and warm against his skin in a way that made his body shudder. He forced himself to look up at his kidnapper. An individual with a wide smile on their face and eyes that spoke of a spiraling psyche. Everything about them...from their expression to their actions to their lack of reaction to pain...it all said despair.

Eventually Makoto was dragged into the street and thrown down like a slab of meat. Makoto was about to scream again for help, when a hand quickly reached out for him. He couldn't help but flinch back, shoulders bunching up in an attempt to shrink away. His tie was yanked off, the force pulling his body upwards. When the tie snapped off he fell back again, he could feel rocks digging into his skin from the fall. Then his hands were tied behind his back. This was bad. This was so bad. Bad didn't even BEGIN to cover it.

His captor came uncomfortably close, having lost all concept of personal space in the madness the end of the world has provided. Makoto tried his best to keep calm as they placed their arms to either side of him so that they were above, staring down below. There was a tense moment where neither moved, they simply tried to catch their breaths so that the silence would stop being filled with panting. It felt like a test. Like they were waiting for him to even dare to try to escape. They wanted to show Makoto what happened when he disobeyed! He could see it in their eyes! In the manicale look, in the smile that kept opening and closing like a strange gutted fish. The way their arms trembled and shook by Makoto's head, just waiting with the high of excitement.

Arms still shaking, mouth overflowing with spittle and pupils pinprick sharp, they began to slowly lower themselves. Makoto held his breath, willing his body to sink further into the concrete. His heels scraped against the ground, but he willed himself not to move in fear that any sign of escape would reward him with a slit throat. Their noses pressed against each other. The captor let out a shaky relieved sigh, as if the contact was the greatest thing they'd felt in a long time. Their eyelids fell half lidded, their smirk from excited to downright sadistic.

"I've got you now, Mr. Ultimate Hope."

Stay calm. You've dealt with this kind of person before.

Makoto's nails gave a tug as he ran them against the concrete in an attempt to ground himself, dirt filling the space between skin and keratin. His heart hammered in his chest as if he were a scared rabbit, but there was no time to panic here. His life depended on it. The despaired were completely delusional...which meant..

Makoto felt a laugh rise out of him, nervous and high in pitch. A bit too high in pitch. He scraped the ground again, enough so that it began to hurt from the force. Calm down. Stay fucking calm.

"Heh...heheh! Yeah! You got me..!" A smile graced his face, "what did you...get me for?"

They pulled back, but not enough so that the pungent smell of smoke and ash left Makoto's nose. Their head tilted, daring to make an innocent face, "You know who you are, right?"

"I do. And who are you?"

Their body moved back and forth as they laughed with everything they had, their knees closing in so that Makoto could feel it against his leg. "Me? Me? Mememe?? Forget that! You're the Ultimate Hope!"

"That's right…"

"I wonder what Miss Junko would say right now. Seeing you pinned down like this?" Their eyes flickered to the sky at the fantasy that no doubt filled their mind.

Makoto tried his hardest not to cringe, and just attempted to change the subject instead, "Do you want me to do something for you?" It was a loaded question. One that made Makoto feel like he was picking all the wrong dialogue choices.

"I do!"

Progress. He wasn't sure if it was good progress, but it was, in fact, progress.

"What's that?"

Their voice dropped to a whisper, waning and cracking in excitement once again. They reached into their pocket.

"I want you to watch this"

They pulled out a little remote that looked horribly put together. Even with how much their hand trembled he could see that it was made of what seemed to be the remains of a torn apart scrap pile. Before Makoto could ask what they meant, they pressed the only button built in.

What ensued was a large explosion.

------

BOOM

A loud eardrum breaking noise filled the previous silence. Byakuya was forced to grip the kitchen countertop as the world around him shook, a sudden intense burst of wind following soon after. The heat uncomfortable against his face. He made his way to the open wall, Kyoko not far behind him.

"Was that an explosion?" Kyoko asked, not wanting to waste any time.

Byakuya looked outside at the smoke and fire that overtook the sky. It was suffocating just to look at. Shit, it was definitely a trap then. "Looks like it"

They watched frozen, transfixed on the horror as a building toppled from where it was standing, joining the others as rubble for them to walk on. They still stayed in place. They knew there was nothing they could do to prevent or help the issue.

Byakuya was so focused on the sight, thinking about how he had to call for an early pick up that he didn't even notice until Kyoko asked.

"Where's Naegi?"

------

Makoto gasped and gasped as he ran for his life. After whatever that person had rigged went off he found himself surprisingly not being pinned anymore as the person sat cackling nearby. He had managed to slip away when more despaired came over and argued with the individual who had been pinning him. Now he was running as fast as he could hoping he wouldn't get caught once again.

He struggled against his traitorous tie, feeling it chafe against his wrists uncomfortably. Untying it would have been enough of a challenge without the running aspect. Now he found himself tripping over his own feet trying to think about the two things at once.

Before he knew it, his feet had slipped right out from under him and he barely caught himself before faceplanting.

Taking the fall as a hint, he stopped to catch his breath, looking around the area to gauge where he was. It seemed like more of the same until he saw a rather structurally sound convenience store. It was surprisingly big too for how little damage it had. A smile overtook his face. Aren't I lucky? Maybe the people inside can help me get this dang tie off.

After letting his breathing calm down he made his way toward the store. Elation filled his heart, a familiar hope that kept him going. He knew it couldn't have all been a trap! Almost there now. Once inside he'd have someone untie his hands, and then he'd find his friends and-

His friends. He hoped Byakuya and Kyoko were safe. He had no idea how far the damage of the explosion traveled, but if it was enough to collapse an entire building there was certainly the risk of them being in hot water. Not to mention the multiple despaired that were walking around, who knows what sort of danger they could walk into. Then again, if anyone was capable of holding their own it would be Byakuya and Kyoko. But he should probably focus on his own safety instead of imagining Byakuya and Kyoko taking down their enemies in the most attractive way possible-

He was right there. He'd reached the convenience store. All the windows were covered up so that he couldn't see inside, but he knew someone inside was waiting. He just had to- huh? What's that?

Makoto looked down to see a familiar, very unwelcome sight. It was a Monokuma with yellow and black stripes. At the top of its head was a red siren. And they were making eye contact.

"Shi-"

Instinctively he reeled back at the loud, sharp noise. The sound raised and lowered it's pitch smoothly, reminding him of tsunami drills he had to do back when he was in school and the implications it brought were similarly horrifying.

So much for being lucky. Makoto felt himself panicking again, the siren was loud enough to hurt his ears. He couldn't tell if his ears were ringing or if the siren was just that obnoxious. But he didn't have time to complain about that. The noise and the light… no doubt others would be coming soon.

"Shh...shhhh!! Stop it!" He couldn't break the machine with his hands the way they were...he had to settle for getting help.

Makoto stopped in his tracks before he could approach the door of the convenience store however, because there was someone watching him through the window. They'd opened the curtain to check what the commotion was. Makoto saw no madness or instability in their eyes...the survivors really WERE here. Makoto smiled, wishing he could wave and gesture for help, but he had to hope his expression was enough.

The survivor frowned, eyes fixated on the Siren Monokuma. Without looking at Makoto again they closed the curtain.

No one was coming to help.

Makoto backed away. That's ok. There was still a chance. If he ran quick enough maybe he could get away before reinforcements arrived.

The growling he heard mocked his fruitless thoughts. That was the deranged sounds a Beast Monokuma made…he couldn't hope to outrun one of those. They were like real rabid bears but worse because they never got tired. They never stopped running once they had you in its sights, just like this one.

But Makoto tried anyway to flee, only to end up taking a riot shield to the face from a Guard Monokuma.

"Oof!"

He fell back hard feeling all air leave his lungs. The snarling and pounding of the Beast Monokuma was getting louder. Too loud. Makoto rolled onto his side, scrambling to get up. He winced as a claw grazed his cheek, first blood of the night welling up.

He felt like an insignificant worm with how he desperately rolled on the floor, hoping to find good enough footing in his panic to stand. But when he got to his knees he was met with another riot shield. He almost didn't react in time to dodge another slash from the Beast, managing to get the tie around his wrists cut.

He'd never gotten to his feet so quickly before in his life. Bits of gravel stuck to his palms and blood ran down his right arm. He scrambled to find something -anything- to defend himself with, but he was already surrounded. It was too late to even bother going for the Siren Monokuma. How the hell was he supposed to-?

He yelled out as sharp metal claws dug into his back, seemingly deep enough that he feared for his spine. The claws rake along his back as the beast removes them. If that wasn't enough to bring him back to reality, he was quickly overwhelmed, bruises being beaten into every inch of his skin from the shields, and slashes from regular Monokuma's on his arms. And worse of all the Beast Monokuma that was trying its best to chomp his head off with it's twitchy manic movements. He tried his best to fend it off, pushing at it personally with his bare hands despite the continuous relentless assault he was receiving.

Another good hit with a shield and his hands slipped. In a split second moment that he didn't even get to think about, he reached a leg up and kicked at its face. He only had a moment of victory.

It bit down on his leg and didn't let go.

Now the interesting thing about Makoto is that even though he doesn't seem capable, he's grown to be able to keep himself calm when it mattered. Even at his own execution, where he was slowly heading towards his untimely demise, With frequent reminders of what was about to come, he had managed to keep as calm as possible. Even well he fell stories down into the garbage. He refused to make a peep and panic when every one of his friends could see. But right now no friends were watching.

Naegi Makoto screamed.

-----

"I'm going to kill Naegi my damn self for running off when we find him." Byakuya was, as per usual, annoyed as hell.

Kyoko sighed, "Calm down. I'm sure there's a reason, you know he isn't like that."

Byakuya rolled his eyes, but didn't say a word. Kyoko was completely right, but he would never give her the satisfaction of admitting that. His silence was enough.

They had made way for the source of the explosion only to find the path to the other side of the city was completely blocked off by the collapsed structure. Due to the closed off nature of the cities remains that left them with only one option: go the long way around and hope those entrances aren't blocked as well.

When it was just Kyoko and Byakuya there was always this weird silence. Sometimes comfortable, sometimes tense. Makoto was always the one to fill it, he was like the bridge between the two. Kyoko wished he could tell Byakuya to cheer up -his attitude was getting on her nerves- but Makoto's absence was the whole reason for it in the first place.

"Keep your guard up" she reminded, her own hand staying close to the pouch strapped to her thigh. Inside was an all weather purpose mini notepad and a handheld taser. She quite liked her taser, it was both heavy hitting and satisfied Makoto's wish to not kill anyone: even the despaired. "I'm certain that explosion was rigged up by a person."

Byakuya scoffed, "I am Togami Byakuya" he kindly reminded her. Kyoko rolled her eyes, she'd heard that way too many times to count. "My guard is always up and my reaction time is perfect. Maybe you should worry about yourself instead."

"Incorrigible as usual, I see."

He glared back down at her, still walking forward with overconfident strides, "I'll have you know-"

There it is. Another rant which consisted only of Byakuya boasting about his own skills. She shut him out without a second thought, focusing on her surroundings instead. It's not as though Byakuya would provide any sort of new information anyway.

"Wait." She interrupted, which Byakuya hated, but his feelings be damned, "do you hear that?"

Byakuya paused, facing towards the direction she was looking. There was a sound in the distance, something familiar. It was far, but if he focused hard enough he could figure it out.

Kyoko and Byakuya looked at each other, both having recognized the siren's undeniable screech at the same time. With a nod, they began to run. Makoto or not, whoever was caught by that Siren Monokuma was in danger. Byakuya steadied his hacking gun in his hand and Kyoko effortlessly pulled her taser from it's bounds. Despite their great desire to find Makoto meer seconds ago, they hoped that anyone else would be caught by the Monokuma's. But, this was Makoto after all.

It took an undetermined amount of time for them to loop around to the convenience store, but the time spent felt uncomfortably long to them both. When they did arrive they found it was a chaotic mess. There was a group of Monokuma's huddled together over one unseen person. There was blood scraped across the concrete as though someone was dragged with their horrible injuries and all. But there were no sounds of a struggle. The sight was more akin to school yard bullies gathering to kick a victim than a genuine fight.

Without wasting much time Byakuya fired at the Siren Monokuma, destroying it without a second thought. "Damn noise was getting on my nerves" He said.

Kyoko shook her head, "Focus" she pointed her nose towards the pile up. Byakuya's uncaring attitude toward the situation showed that he believed the person was already dead. One by one the machines fell apart or destroyed themselves. And in their wake was a small, bloodied mess in human shape. The smell of copper and the sickening sight of messy pink was one they had gotten all too used to over the years. But that didn't make it easier when you recognized one of those bodies as someone you cared about.

Byakuya felt harsh, furious breaths of air pushing in and out of his nose. The action was an almost unconscious response. He couldn't help but let anger well up at the sight of Naegi Makoto laying on the ground curled up on his side.

He grit his teeth, "Is he…?" Dammit. A Togami didn't hesitate. Certainly not Byakuya.

"No." Kyoko's voice was barely more than a whisper, and for a split second he thought she was simply in denial. But no, she had caught sight of Makoto's chest moving up and down. She made way to him, hands hovering over him unsure of how deep his injuries ran. The first thing she saw were vicious claw marks running down his back. There were bits of debris clinging to the wound. They were ugly and jagged things. She wanted to roll him onto his back to get a better look at him but was it even safe to move him at all? She didn't want to risk paralyzing him. Not to mention she'd be pressing his wound to the ground. She glanced to his leg. A complete mangled mess, she could tell the unit that attached itself to his leg was relentless in its attack. Shaking and thrashing and the like. The fabric that once covered his leg was all but torn to shreds leaving the whole injury on brutal display. There was blood pooling underneath where he lay on the ground. His skin was pale from blood loss, breaking into a cold sweat that made her certain shock was already setting in. Almost all exposed skin was blossoming into a different, unnatural color indicating a plethora of bruises. His breathing was quiet but heavy, he'd already lost a lot of blood. When her eyes finally trailed up to his face she felt a small bit of relief that his features were marred by only a small cut on his left cheek, with a lazy stream of blood pouring from it.

Byakuya and Kyoko were two individuals with a massive disconnect of their emotions brought about by their upbringing. Byakuya turned any emotion he felt into anger and disdain. Kyoko snuffed out most emotions she felt so that nothing would show. They had the emotional resolve of steel, it wasn't easy breaking down their walls. Makoto was that strange part of the equation that ruined all of that. He managed to get Byakuya to be intrigued by someone so seemingly insignificant and he managed to get Kyoko to act pouty and almost childish during the game. Yes, their entire lives were spent crafting these defenses. And now they had to fight to keep it all together with only elmers glue in their arsenal.

Kyoko was up close and personal with all the gruesome details of his attack. She tried to shove it all down so that she could completely focus on ensuring Makoto's survival. But he was looking up at her with a dazed half lidded look, as though any second the world would slip away from under his feet. And despite that Makoto smiled when he caught eyes with her. Kyoko's heart cracked.

Byakuya could only watch with his fists by his side. He had set out to ensure all the survivors of the first killing game continued to survive and here we are. He forced all these feelings to be translated into anger. But he knew the underlying causes. He knew there was a part of him that simply was scared for his friends sake.

The two of them both understood the others emotional grievances. And that's exactly why Byakuya's heart skipped a beat when Kyoko looked up at him with fear vibrant in her eyes.

"It doesn't look good."

#naegirigami #naegamigiri #makoto naegi #byakuya togami #kyoko kirigiri #whump #fanfic #dr #dr:thh #danganronpa #im so peeved because tumblr wont show this pic in the main tag #dangaronpa #dangan ronpa #naegiri #naegami #dr3 #dr 3 #bear trap

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cheezritsu · 4 years ago

Text

Elegy for the Living

Fushiguro x reader

One of the tenets you’ve created for yourself when you became a jujutsu sorcerer was that you would save everyone—criminals, bullies, junkies, the like. You were no god; judgement was never yours to give. And yet, Fushiguro Megumi is trying his damndest to break every single one of your beliefs, brick by hard, infuriating brick. It’s all fun and games, until it’s not.

Alternatively: enemies to lovers and back again, in five easy steps.

A/N: currently in the process of writing an Enemies to Lovers Fushiguro fic so here’s the first part:

It’s possibly only seconds after you’ve finished battle. Seconds, he thinks, because his chest is still heaving, because you haven’t moved an inch, not even to pick up the weapon that’s been left behind after the final blow. (His blow, which made lamented card float lamely into the grass. It sits there, the five of cups, his disapproving frown aimed at you.)

Your feet are still, as if nailed to where you stand. The clouds begin to drop rain over the two of you, the run off puddling around your grimy combat boots. That’s how long you stay staring at the dismembered figure; you can only assume it was once a person by the puzzle pieces of body parts left behind after the attack. A hostage, a possessed person, a cursed item. A human being. Or, what was one.

Megumi’s steely eyes hold no reverence, instead watching your movements as you mindlessly reach into your uniform pocket, pulling out a small carton. You shake the box once, and the slim stick reveals itself.

Megumi’s skin prickles. “Hey,” he says, stepping closer to you as you continue to numbly place a cigarette between your lips. “We need to get going. Ijichi’s coming with the car soon, we have to meet him back at the entrance.”

There’s a flicker of blue light that emits from your fingertips; cursed energy, ignited like a flame. Megumi sneers at the misuse, watching in disgust as you take the first few puffs. “Unbelievable,” he mumbles. You tear your eyes away for only half a second to give him a withering glare, and then they’re back where they started.

But they twitch. There’s anger that fuels the blue flames licking your fingertips, and you can’t help but wonder.

“Why’d you attack it with divine dogs before I could secure him?” You don’t even acknowledge his look of bewilderment. “If I’d been able to separate them—“

“You couldn’t have.” He snaps. The tightness in his jaw is visible; it makes the sharp line his face even more defined, while at the same time marring the his boyish handsomeness. Does being a hardass come naturally? Or does he force himself to be this way? You mull over the question as he berates you, catching his customary reply:

“You’re not even close to being strong enough to save everyone.”

Megumi’s truths are white noise, barely decipherable from the drizzling rain. Underneath the awning of this abandoned high school, you’re safe from the onslaught of rain, but the body is not. It sags as water soaks into the clothes—a seifuku, black with white stripes. Blood floods the grass, trickling in rivulets down the sidewalks, sloshing into the gutter. You breath in, as if you’re sighing, taking a long drag of smoke that makes your lungs burn and your eyes finally shed the tear that’s been welling in the corner. The body’s going to bloat in a few days if it keeps raining.

Megumi, not privy to your inner thoughts (and frankly, unsure you even have any,) grabs your left arm. “Are you even listening?”

“How come whenever demons attack it’s always in shitty weather? Ever noticed that?”

Perhaps it’s the way your fingers separate, all of them equally spaced out as your right hand reaches up to drag the cigarette from your lips, that makes Megaumi pause. As the cigarette slides between your digits, a trail of blood stains the pure white. You haven’t wiped your hands yet. You go cross eyed from looking down, examining where the blood on your hands stains the cigarette. Your eyes glaze over, as if throughly entranced.

Megumi tears his eyes away, lest he be caught up in the same hypnosis. “We don’t have time for your stupid questions.”

You scratch your forehead with your thumbnail, humming slightly. “That just means you don’t know either.”

Cold wind sweeps through the thin fabric of his uniform. He looks at you with a pinched frown. “No, it means I don’t care. Let’s go.”

He’s done asking you anything. He heel turns away, leaving you—to do what, exactly? Your unerring stare never leaves the quartered girl, her mouth open to the clouds, like the dammed souls of hell crying for their saviour.

(Did you think that savior would be you? The mocking voice sounds unsettlingly like Megumi.)

Or perhaps, more likely, in her final moments of living she screamed for the safety of her mother, like any little girl would. Like she would.

“Damn,” you sigh, finally squatting down to collect your card. Your knees create a symphony of cracks, and you groan like an old war veteran when you stand back up.

When you spot Megumi, he’s leaning against one of the poles under the awning, his attention turned to the road. He doesn’t see you light another cigarette, inhaling slower this time to ride the drug out.

He only slightly turns his head when your feet start idly sloshing the water where you stand. The pointed toe of your shoe draws words he can only guess before they wash away.

“What are you doing?” He asks, both to get you to stop and from a deep seated curiosity. “Writing,” you say briefly. The cigarette dangles precariously from your barely open lips, your hands splayed out beside you to keep balance.

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I gathered that much.”

“Then why did you ask?”

“What are you writing?”

A quick bite of a response loads itself on your tongue, but you hold back. Instead, you divulge the truth to him, knowing it’ll make him angrier.

“Things that deserve to be forgotten. Pain,” deft strokes write the kanji, and Megumi sees it take shape. “Agony. Memories. Sorrow.”

You finally take the cigarette out, the stick already half burnt. His eyes narrow upon it, his blood boiling as you waste your dexterity on vent poems in the rain. Perhaps this is your most vexing quality; your almost childish insistence to succumb to whatever emotion moves you at the moment. You’re as fickle and fragile as the wind, pretending you’re made of stone.

“Why do you do this to yourself?” He suddenly asks, though not for the first time. The first time he asked was far less judgemental than it was now. “Why do you always make things worse?”

Worse for who, you have to ask. You cough, trying not to outwardly cackle in his face. The idea of bringing Megumi misery makes you nearly giddy. The bubble of excitement dies down the moment your eyes catch his expression: brows pinched, eyes flashing dangerously until they give a lidded glare, his mouth turned in an upward sneer. The look saves just for you, just when you’re alone.

“I don’t think anything could get worse than this,” you tilt your head towards him, pointedly blowing smoke. “Besides,” you tack on. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t.” You laugh again at his response, and his shoulders tense, expression slipping into a boyish anger. “It’s not about you, it’s about the fact that you exacerbate your bad emotions like you want every other demon in a five kilometer radius to find us.”

“Exacerbate,” you snort childishly. “Now that’s a five dollar word.”

His posture has straightened, shoulders defensively squared and facing you. “When are you going to admit you’re not made for this, huh?”

Your shoulders shake with another laugh, this one hollow and bitter. He stands in front of you, expectant, voice laced with an air of maturity he doesn’t have the right to posses. Not even if he was born decades before you, a millennia before you.

“Made for this,” you repeat slowly. “Like the gods themselves crafted you, Fushiguro Megumi, from the mud under my shoe to fight demons.” You relish in the hitch in breath you elicit from him, even if it is followed by the individual cracks of his knuckles. You meet his gaze, and your combined cursed energy signature fluctuates; those same demons in the five kilometer radius must be fainting in its wake.

It doesn’t deter either of you. You’re both as still and stubborn as bulls. It feels like having a stare down with your own reflection, and it is agonizing to know this truth. To know he is your mirror.

“You weren’t made for this either, Fushiguro. You made yourself. So you must forgive me for not suppressing any and all emotions, like you.”

The curl to his lip drags upward even further, like the snarl of a wolf catching its prey. “You can barely keep it together after a grade 2 mission, and you want to come at me?” There’s something cruel in his eyes when he says it, something that wants to dissect your flaws and put them in a glass cage to repeatedly gawk at. Your eyes drop to ground, unable to bear the lens he views you with.

“You’ve lived with sorcery and demons for so long, and you’ve never gotten used to it. So why do you keep pretending like you can do this when you can’t?”

You blow smoke towards your feet. It vanishes quickly, evaporating into thin air. You stare into it, as if your memories are scripted in fog, abs you can make them disappear just as easily.

Megumi scrutinises your face for every micro expression that flits across your features, and he’s disappointed when all he sees is confusion. Like you don’t know the answer either.

He clicks his tongue, training his eyes back to the road. You stay staring at your feet, unblinking, lest you close your eyes see her decomposing body behind your eyelids.

A sudden realization shocks you as you bring the cancer stick to your lips for the first time in minutes. You’re only a quarter of the way through, leaving it forgotten. But there’s a warmth in your veins and a steadiness to your hands, some non-nicotine induced high. You smile callously at Megumi, who stands stiff as a board, pretending not to glance at you from the corner of his eye.

Unfortunate, you think. Seems I’ve found a better drug.

You take a drag off the cigarette. It’s feels like nothing in comparison. You burn through half of it, so that when you open your mouth, smoke curls out like a simpering dragon; elegant, dangerous, intoxicating. Megumi gapes as you grin, and something in you burns.

“You’re fun to argue with.” You snuff the cigarette between your calloused fingertips, putting out the ash in the box careful not to litter. Megumi’s expression is so priceless, you laugh when you say “Let’s do this again sometime, yeah?”

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princeanxious · 4 years ago

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What art are you most proud of? And please show us a pic if you can! <3

Not gonna lie, this was actually p hard to answer. I’m honestly proud of any piece I get done, especially any full body, full color, full background pieces, and I refuse to let myself out-right hate anything that I draw in general now-a-days, unfinished or no. I draw for fun, always have, so I try not to put too much worry on how good something looks so long as it gets my idea across in a way that I like, or that I tried?? (And ik being proud of a piece doesnt have to tie into what the end result looks like, im just covering that base) I looked through all of my recent digital art on my ipad(that i’ve had what, 3-4 years at this point?) and found myself about just as happy with each finished piece-

-Except one. There is one piece that I forget about constantly but I’m honestly super proud of the amount of effort it had put in to reach the end result. It probably sees a number of glances infrequently(due to my sporatic activity on said blog) but isnt posted to this blog’s art tag.

It’s the blog banner I drew for my @thelostguardianau fic, of the(at the time) whole cast in the au. You can find the post to reblog it from here but i’m also adding it below for reference. (* and honestly I’ll mention every other art piece in this au posted to it’s blog stands at having this same proudness, as each individual characters complicated design fed into this big banner, each one having a giant set of uniquely drawn wings, complex body markings, and unique clothing and features. And I would not have been able to complete this banner without having those singular character chart pieces finished first, except for Thomas’s design, who has yet to be posted for ✨reasons✨)

This fricking Banner was and still is(for now, *wink*) the most ambitious piece I’ve managed to finish. It took me so long, my wrist hated me, my ipad hated me, my ipencil hated me, medibang hated me, this piece pushed the limits of the poor app. Every time I try and open this piece up on the app it takes a solid couple seconds to open, save, and close.

From sketching to lining every single character, to having to uniquely match up Their Wing Sizes and Heights, because Guardians are fucking Tall, so Wing size and Height size was hell to calculate and portray. Why, you might ask?

Because I was limited to the proportions that would actually fit into a tumblr mobile banner. Which, funfact, is much smaller than you’d think!

I had to make sure they’d all fit, wings and all. And they didnt fcking want to. But I made it fit, because I wanted a full body + wings cast banner and goddamn it that was going to happen. And I did. And I lost a fuck-off amount of detail-space for it.

Coloring it wasn’t exactly difficult, but I will once again point back to this app hating this piece and it draining my battery because of it. I work in layers. My lineart will have 5-6 different layers in color before I combine them and set the hue to black, but I still keep my lineart seperate in that each character has their own lineart, and the background lineart is seperate.

I had their lineart, and probably still do, seperated into Seven different layers, one per character, each one w/ an extra masking layer for their wing glow. Each character got their own folder for colors, and had multiple layers for each colored section: clothing, skin, skin blush + eye whites, hair, wings, body markings, marking glow. And then there was the background layers, and the glowing affects, ect. The whole piece stands at having about 80 total layers having been used over the course of making it.

So yeah, Medibang does not like this piece when I try to open it. xD

But really, setting aside fighting and babying technology thats being pushed close to its limit, the real pride comes from the fact that this piece has Seven fully colored, near-full body characters drawn, all touching and interacting and accurate to the scale that I made. It is the most amount of characters in one piece that I’ve ever drawn, colored, and finished, and I’m pretty fricken proud of it.

Which makes it all the more daunting that said banner is going to get an upgrade, because it’s a Character Cast Banner after all, and its going to have four more fully designed and full winged characters added into it.

And by upgrade, I mean I get to redraw the whole dang thing. Because I gotta rearrange ✨everyone’s✨ positions. And at this point, the only way thats possible is by starting over.

wish me luck on that. o_o;

#sanders sides #luka draws #thelostguardianau #luka answers #ask to tag #tw long post #kinda #luka rambles

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dtrhwithalex · 4 years ago

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TV | Leverage (Season 1, Rewatch)

Rewatch of the first season of TNT's LEVERAGE (2008-2012), created by John Rogers and Chris Downey together with Dean Devlin and his production company Electric Entertainment.

In anticipation of the show's reboot / revival / sequel LEVERAGE: REDEMPTION coming to IMDbTV on 09 July this year, I am rewatching the original 77 episodes and writing about my favourite moments and things from each episode, season by season.

(Just a note, this first season was aired out of order, so the dates won't actually form a chronology, since I'm going with the intended order rather than the one they were aired in.)

101: THE NIGERIAN JOB

D: DEAN DEVLIN. W: JOHN ROGERS & CHRIS DOWNEY. Original Air Date: 07 December 2008.

I have lost count of how many times I have seen this episode (or any episodes of this show to be completely honest), but it holds up every single time. It is one of my favourite, if not the favourite TV pilot episode I have ever seen.

The way this pilot sets up who the main characters are and what the core of this show is, is simply perfect. The introduction of Nate at the bar being approached by Dubenich, then the intercut between him convincing Nate to do the job and the actual job happening -- just wonderful. The same goes for the individual introductions of the other players. Nate's comment about Parker ("no, but Parker is insane") which plants a thread for the rest of the show already, the flashbacks of each character to exemplify who they and what their talents are, combined with the episode then showing you those talents and what Nate can do with them -- which is, of course, his talent -- sets up this whole show so well.

So many seeds that come to fruition throughout the show are already planted right here. Nate's mentoring of Parker to become his eventual successor as Mastermind ("Haircuts, Parker, count the haircuts" -- "I would've missed that"), Eliot's role as protector, the iconic overhead shots and the gloating, the alternate revenue streams, "Hardison dies in Plan M" -- it's all already right here in this episode. A brilliant piece of writing. Hats off to Rogers and Downey, no questions asked.

Rewatching this episode made me think of what this show is about, in its essence. Yes, it is about standing up for those who can't do so themselves, taking on the bigger bad, showing how corrupt and terrible the world can be, but also how much good there is to still find in the world. But also, this show is about a lonely man being actively bullied into the family he didn't know he needed or wanted, but will eventually come to realise is the one thing, the only thing that is keeping him alive. LEVERAGE is the story of a man and his crusade to avenge the death of his child, but is is very much also the story of a man who finds a reason to keep getting up every morning in the four people who are on this crusade with him. And this pilot episode already holds the seed and the potential of all of that. And that is why this show is to this day still my favourite show of all time, because it is utterly perfect in every way.

102: THE HOMECOMING JOB

D: DEAN DEVLIN. W: JOHN ROGERS. Original Air Date: 09 December 2008.

I absolutely love how John Rogers was like okay first episode, some greedy asshole who does whatever he wants for his own gain, we'll take him down a notch. Episode two? Hmm, oh yeah, the government is completely corrupt, filled with rich greedy assholes who do whatever they want for their own gain and always get away with it. Not on my watch (I love him very much, thank you).

This episode, once again, so good. The re-introduction of every character in this new reality of Nate's crusade is just as brilliantly done as the original introduction of them all. Sophie at an audition (love the John Rogers cameo here) completely butchering it once again, Eliot beating up some thug, Parker stealing valuable art, and Hardison doing what he does best: creating a beautiful office-slash-home space for the team, putting his all into their backstories, the equipment, the behind-the-scenes workings of what they need to get the job done. My man.

The message of this particular episode is also just something I am very fond of. The rehab facility doctor's words in the beginning, and then in the end again -- "people don't just show up to help. that's not the way the world works" -- as well as Nate's ultimate answer to her, "so change the world." That right here is the message of this show. It's already right here, all up in your face, episode two.

I completely adore what this episode does for the character dynamics already. The detail Hardison puts into the other's backstories, the interactions around the conference table, Eliot sharing his knowledge, Nate explaining the money laundering scam, the whole thing about laws being in a wooden box, Sophie elaborating why she knew Congressman Jenkins was lying to her -- they don't just work together, they already start giving the others insight into their talents and their knowledge and share that. It's beautiful. I especially adore the shot of them at the end, everyone leaning against the car while watching Corporal Perry and the other veterans debating what to do with the money. They are already so comfortable and at ease with each other, leaning into each other's spaces. They're family. You can see it here already.

Absolutely fantastic episode. For a long time, whenever I thought about The Homecoming Job, I somehow associated a more negative emotion with it than with other episodes, but I don't quite know why, because this is a brilliant episode and I love watching it.

103: THE WEDDING JOB

D: JONATHAN FRAKES. W: CHRIS DOWNEY. Original Air Date: 13 January 2009.

We love Jonathan Frakes in this house and every single time his name shows up with the director tag on this show, I know that I will enjoy every last second of the episode I am about to watch. Frakes directed the hell outta this thing. The Wedding Job is an absolutely excellent episode. Dan Lauria as our main baddie Nicky Moscone is perfect casting and there are so many great comedic beats in the scenes with him and Nate. Everyone, generally, is so weirded out by Priest!Nate, but Moscone just takes the weirdness in stride. This episode holds a very special place in my heart because it contains the introduction of my favourite FBI duo -- McSweeten (McSweetheart, as we call him) and Taggert. I adore these two bumbling fools so much, and I am so glad they kept being brought back, because they are both just so lovely. McSweetheart especially is very dear to me because of the D.B. Cooper Job from the last season (where, I ask, do I start my McSweetheart for Leverage: Redemption campaign?). Overall just such an excellent episode, really. So many great moments between our main characters--Sophie and Nate and their little "relationship" problem, Hardison and Eliot talking about marriage, Parker pretending she was waiting in the screening room to have sex with Hardison, Hardison appreciating Eliot's cooking. I also absolutely adore the beginning, the four of them convincing Nate that Teresa is definitely the type of client they take on. And Nate's resigned "Yeah, okay, yeah. Let's go rob Nicky Moscone. A guy who kills people and lives in our city. Yeah, let's go do that" as if they weren't going to go above and beyond any of that in the five years they will spend together on this crusade of his. You're so precious, Nathan. Of course, the ending of this episode is beyond brilliant, and lives both in my heart and my head rent free. It is such a magnificent found family moment. Getting Teresa the restaurant back, the news footage regarding Ray's appeal, and of course, Eliot cooking for them all, and them celebrating together, all of them. It is such a beautiful moment.

104: THE SNOW JOB

D: TONY BILL. W: ALBERT KIM. Original Air Date: 27 January 2009.

I adore what the client says to Nate in the beginning of the episode: "You work hard, you play by the rules, but when you need help, you really need help? They let you hang. They let you hang and it's your kid who pays the price." This show hammers home its message so many times in such great character moments and it makes watching these brilliant people take on these greedy bastards and robbing them for all they've got that much sweeter. It is such a satisfying thing to watch. Especially because they're all so damn good at this.

This is a great episode but it is infinitely funnier if you know and speak German, because it makes the scenes between Sophie and Eliot absolutely hysterical. And the delivery of the line that Ute Ausgartner says when she discovers they replaced her with Sophie is just wrong enough to crack you up.

Again some wonderfully brilliant comedic beats -- the Frakes cameo in the hospital waiting room, Parker casually hanging off the ski lift, Hardison and Eliot arguing over who puts dye in the dead body, Eliot carrying off a pissed of Parker, and so many more.

This episode also, for the first time, really gives insight into Nate's drinking problem. We had the one moment in The Homecoming Job, but this episode starts to explore it more in depths. And something that I've always appreciated about this show is that it never glorifies the drinking, but Nate is also never vilified for it. It is a fact of Nate's life and they explore different aspects of it, and everything is done with such care (which does not surprise me one bit since this is John Rogers' show).

The ending of this episode is also, once again, so beautiful and nicely done. It is just so incredibly satisfying to watch these greedy bastards get what's coming to them, and to see the clients be compensated beyond anything they'd ask for.

105: THE MILE HIGH JOB

D: ROB MINKOFF. W: AMY BERG. Original Air Date: 20 January 2009.

Another fantastic episode (you will realise that I will say this about every single of the 77 episodes this show has)! Amy Berg wrote some excellent stuff for this show, and this episode is one of them. Always a lot of great character relationship moments, and absolutely brilliant comedic beats.

I am very fond of the fact that here, in the early days, we have the whole team present around the table during the client meeting. We see all their reactions and inputs here already, and not later when Nate or Hardison (usually) relays the information of their next job to the rest of the gang. It's a very lovely moment.

I am also very fond of the entire recon bit at the GenoGrow office. Sophie's French rave-girl act, the others having to climb stairs, Hardison's absence, the cut from Parker's bomb to the microwave at the HQ, Nate, Eliot and Parker yelling "Oh it's right behind us, it's chasing us!" and grabbing Sophie on the way out, meanwhile the security guys completely buying it. Absolutely brilliant, all the way through.

Both Hardison's adventure at GenoGrow as well as the others on the plane contain so many great comedic moments. Hardison's Spanish maintenance guy act, his interactions with both Cheryl and Steve (talking into the cupboard? His fake meeting and getting Steve to take a dive? The whole birthday thing? A+ all around. Amy Berg, everyone) and of course the reaction he has to the plane safely landing on the highway ("lord I was so scared, I wanna cry and call my momma" I love him so much, y'all). I also have big feelings about Nate's pep talk to Hardison, "you can do this, I trust you ... the only guy I can count on in a situation like this." Sir, I am experiencing an emotion alright.

The sequences on the plane are of course also absolutely fantastic. Nate and Sophie's domestic, Parker's day job and her interactions with Marissa, Eliot being a big softie who holds Marissa's hand all the way up to the in-flight bar and hugs the woman he sat down next to when they safely land (womaniser, big softie. tomayto, tomahto). Also big shoutout to the fake names Nate and Sophie have. We love our DOCTOR WHO references in this show. I love these nerds very much, thank you.

106: THE TWO HORSE JOB

D: CRAIG R. BAXLEY. W: MELISSA GLENN & JESSICA RIEDER (GRASL). Original Air Date: 16 December 2008.

This episode also holds a very special place in my heart because it contains the introduction of our dearly beloved antagonist, Mr Jim Sterling, the absolutely amazing Mark Sheppard. We love Sterling in this house, yessir (again, where do I have to address my Jim Sterling For Leverage: Redemption campaign to?). Every moment he is in is fantastic, but I especially adore the conversation he has with Nate at the race track (especially the "Nathan Ford is a common criminal" -- "Common. That's just hurtful" bit of it).

This, of course, is an episode by our wonder twins, Glenn and Rieder (now Grasl), which they ended up naming the in-universe safe company after. Always fantastic work when the two of them are involved. Some amazing character moments again here.

We get to see some of Eliot's backstory with Aimee which in turn gives us two fantastic moments with him and the women of the team. I love his interaction with Sophie at the racetrack: "I like Aimee, I do. I mean it, I like you both, Eliot. I just, I don't know what comes of chasing the past, you know." -- "Well Sophie, sweetie, I don't think you and Nate get to serve me that particular meal." Just fantastic moment between these two, who I like to call The Conference of Mom Friends whenever they are in scenes together. The other interaction is with Parker in the car: "We need you to do this. I need you to do this." I adore Eliot and Parker's relationship and this already is a very early glimpse at the dynamic they develop which will eventually lead to beautiful moments like that in the ice cave in The Long Way Down Job in season four.

I also love how it is Hardison and Parker's discussion about horses that ultimately reminds Nate of the Lost Heir con. Aldis' delivery of "Wilbur loved Mr Ed! He loved him like a second cousin twice removed" is absolutely brilliant. Unsurprisingly, however, my favourite interaction of this episode is the one Eliot has with Aimee at the end: "You're never gonna be the kind to settle down, but I'm glad you found a family." -- "Th-those guys?" Yes, Eliot, those guys. You might not know it just yet, but that is absolutely your family, and the fact that an outsider already comments on it this early is simply perfect. My deepest gratitude to you, wonder twins.

107: THE BANK SHOT JOB

D: DEAN DEVLIN. W: AMY BERG. Original Air Date: 30 December 2008.

Amy Berg on the typewriter once again (typewriter? Alex what are you talking about this was 2008...)! I really like this episode a whole lot. An excellent one for Nate/Sophie, as well as Hardison/Parker. I have a huge soft spot for my crime children pretending to be law enforcement. Any combination of them is good, but Parker and Hardison as FBI agents especially is just exquisite.

This episode is also just fantastic for illustrating some of the small town criminal activity that happens from the top down. Judge Roy's entire bit about how "these little people" will do and say whatever he tells them to do and that, because he is the law in the town, he gets to decide what is actually true and what is not. To then have Hardison fake security footage and them turning the story against Judge Roy is of course poetic justice. I adore the moment when the bank manager Frank decides that sticking with the false facts these random people have come up with is the better choice than having the judge remain in charge.

I also really love the interaction Derrick has with Sophie and then later with Parker, as well as the moment of uncertainty in-between. His "I don't know what to do with that" when Sophie tells him she's a thief is so funny and so good. The turn of "but they're criminals....then again" when he looks out of the window on the way to Parker is also just a nice moment to illustrate exactly what Parker then later says, "sometimes bad guys are the only good guys you get." Ethics and justice are such muddy concepts and especially in situations like Derrick is currently in, there is no way of knowing who is actually good, who is bad, and who is just trying their best. It is a lovely moment and once again, one of those great instances of "important message within character moment" that this show does so well.

Of course, I am also very fond of Hardison's mention of DOCTOR WHO, his "Geek power baby, stay strong" line, Eliot's fight scene with the crack dealers ("stay in the car!"), Hardison's bullshitting the demands at the bank (Hall & Oates!) and, of course, last but not least, the return of my favourite FBI fools, McSweetheart and Taggert, getting yet another win laid in their lap by the Leverage crew. This episode is filled to the brim with greatness.

108: THE MIRACLE JOB

D: ARVIN BROWN. W: CHRISTINE BOYLAN. Original Air Date: 23 December 2008.

An absolutely excellent Nate-centric episode! We finally get a bit more of a view into Nate's past, aside from the ever-present flashback to Sam's death at the hospital. I really like the relationship of Nate and Father Paul, which I think is very interesting and so well done. Through Paul we get another side of Nate, which may have stayed hidden otherwise. I am also very fond of how Maggie is introduced here. She doesn't get a voice yet, but we learn about her through Nate, Sophie and also Paul, and I quite like that. It sets up expectations for her appearance in the finale, which is really intriguing.

This episode has so many great comedic beats as well, and I barely even know where to begin. From the team's inability to deal with Sophie's acting talents (or lack thereof) to the whole "It's not Santa" gag, the amazing faces Sophie pulls when the mark tells her about Bibletopia, Hardison's "God will smite us" thing -- there is just too much good stuff in this episode.

One of my favourite interactions in this episode was on the construction site, after Grant takes what he thinks are his meds.

Sophie: What is that you just took? Grant: Xanax. For my nerves. Parker: Actually caffeine. With a dash of dextroamphetamine. Eliot: You have him speed? Hardison, shrugging: He beat up a priest!

The look Eliot gives them then with a half-shrug, an expression which cannot be described as anything but "aight, fair enough" -- just absolutely excellent.

What I also really loved about this episode, is that we get to see more of the HQ than just the conference room. We have the team meeting in Nate's office, we see Sophie picking through her mail, Hardison making space so he can build fake Saint Nick statues. Added to that, the team is setting into such a nice familiarity with each other. Eliot brings Sophie a cup of coffee to the meeting in Nate's office. The fact that they all do get mail at the office. This is their space. I love it so much.

What this episode also gives us, is a first instance of the con possibly going side-ways because of how convincing it is. I adore that their possible downfall will never be incompetence, but rather over-competence. They are so good at what they do that sometimes their talent comes to bite them in the ass. We see this again, a bit different, in The Juror #6 Job.

The ending of this episode is very dear to me. It is a very lovely moment between Nate and Paul, but also Nate and the team. It creates such a beautiful moment of intimacy between these characters, which I think is done with extreme care, and it shows. This episode also very nicely sets up a nice sort of grounded-ness for the next episode, which I think the subject matter really deserves and needs.

109: THE STORK JOB

D: MARC ROSKIN. W: ALBERT KIM. Original Air Date: 06 January 2009.

This one and the next episode are excellent Parker-centric plots and this one in particular also has some wonderful Parker/Hardison content. Nate, also, is just very good in this episode as well. Keeping the tone the last episode established especially toward the end, this episode has such a nice grounded-ness to it. Nate's first meeting with the client is so careful in a way, and we don't always see that. Generally, Nate is careful and considerate in this episode, I think. Even when Parker goes rogue, he is so good with Parker (I attribute the brashness entirely to his director role here). It meant so much that he doesn't shoot down the idea of coming back for the other orphans, he knows how important this is to Parker (and Hardison).

With this episode we learn that both Parker and Hardison have grown up in the foster system. I really adore the conversation they have at the van after they find out about the orphanage -- Hardison telling Parker about his Nana, Parker's fear that foster system will be cruel to those children, Hardison's "I like how you turned out" -- it is such a lovely and meaningful moment. This and the "we're a team" / "a little more than a team" moments are such great instances that highlight the importance of these characters and their relationships in this show. It isn't just some crime procedural where every characters is replaceable at any given moment -- this show is about people, and about these specific people.

On a lighter note, I also really adore Nate and Sophie's dynamic in this. How they coach Parker and Eliot individually but at the same time, while also arguing about Sophie conning Nate back in the day, is just brilliant. Their "delightful banter" as Hardison calls it, is so good, and I absolutely love that Nate figures out the way to con Irina is the same way he would have to con Sophie. It's just too good.

David S. Lee as Nicholas is also incredibly good, although since watching THE LIBRARIANS I always expect him to swoon over a blonde and call her Duchess any minute.

110: THE JUROR #6 JOB

D: JONATHAN FRAKES. W: REBECCA KIRSCH. Original Air Date: 10 February 2009.

The lighter of the two Parker-centric episodes, but a brilliant one nonetheless. This episode also brings us the introduction of Peggy played by the lovely Lisa Schurga. We love Peggy in this house and, once again, I ask: where do I address my Peggy For Leverage: Redemption campaign to?

This episode is great for many different reasons, one of course being that Hardison is so good at what he does, that Parker's alias has to go to jury duty. What a talent, we absolutely have no choice but to stan. I love him so much. Other fantastic things that make this episode absolutely excellent are

- Nate's "there is not some evil conspiracy lurking behind the curtain of every routine civic activity" speech which he then has to retract,

- Sophie teaching Parker about persuasion with the help of Eliot who is absolutely precious in this interaction,

- Eliot's friend Donnie, who poses as another employee from the company Sophie pretends to be from, who then turns out to be Scottish,

- Nate and Sophie sending the kids off to work at the door, with a briefcase and handshake for Hardison and a snack and high-five for Parker,

and Hardison's entire act as a lawyer. He is so good. Of course his stalling is brilliant, but the turn-around once he has to actually try and win the trial? A masterpiece. I love how he tears the doctor apart for his drunken airplane misconducts, but what takes the cake by miles is of course his closing statement. He is just, so good, and such a goodhearted, wonderful person. I love how he directly addressed Parker. Hardison is full of sunshine and I love. him. so. much.

And I would be remiss not to mention how incredibly fond I am of the rest of the team watching the feed of the jury room from the HQ with such proud looks on their faces as Parker leads the other jury members and they vote in favour of the plaintiff. This is their girl and she's done so well. What a brilliant episode. My love to Becky Kirsch, honestly.

111: THE 12-STEP JOB

D: ROD HARDY. W: AMY BERG & CHRIS DOWNEY. Original Air Date: 03 February 2009.

Another episode, another instance of me asking the question: Where do I address my Hurley for Leverage: Redemption campaign to? We love Hurley! Drew Powell is absolutely fantastic, I adore him. Also huge shoutout to Joseph LoDuca for that absolute banger of a song that plays during the intro and the credits.

This episode has some fantastic Eliot/Hardison moments that are very dear to me. The two of them looking for Hurley and fighting over Hardison's slushy spill is just lovely. The whole car bomb sequence is also just completely brilliant. It's such a step in their relationship and I love it so much. The moment of "D'you want me to kick it?" / "God, I'm gon' die" is a wonderful comedic beat in this tense situation, but it is the bit after that I really adore. Hardison figuring out how to trick the bomb and then,

Eliot: What's our margin of error here? Hardison: 'bout half a second. Eliot: Run the ba-bag of bricks by me again? Hardison: Are you ready? Eliot: No.

I am just, so fond of these two. Also the fact that Eliot's hand shakes when he reaches for the cables and waits for Hardison's signal always puts me all up in my feelings about him. I also of course adore the scene at the rehab facility with Hardison's "I'm with him. No, I am with him. See, he thinks the flirting makes me jealous, but it doesn't. But if you was like Brad Pitt or Denzel or somebody, oh girl it would be on." It love it so much.

Nate, of course, is also just great in this episode. His entire experience in rehab is another wonderful insight into his character, his issues, how he sees himself and so on. The hallucination of Sterling says so much about him. I think this also very nicely sets up how Nate behaves in the finale double episode.

I also really want to mention Parker here, because Parker in rehab is also something I am very fond of. I love the moment where she pickpockets the Koreans searching for Hurley and then so innocently comes to Nate to confess what she's done and tells him in this tiny voice "I didn't meant to, it was just instinct." I love her so much. And her, at the end of the episode, skipping along and then running toward her people, jumping on Eliot while tossing her stuff at Nate, and then going to hug Hardison, is such a lovely moment. I love how the three of them then walk toward the car arm in arm, too. I love these kids.

112: THE FIRST DAVID JOB

D: DEAN DEVLIN. W: JOHN ROGERS. Original Air Date: 17 February 2009.

First half of the first finale! I gotta say I really love the David Jobs very much. It is such a fantastic first finale. I really adore how the opening of this episode is mirrored in the opening of the second half.

Given the set-up of the previous episode, I really like how for a first time watcher, this opening sequence very much looks like Nate is completely off the rails doing his own thing getting revenge on the man who, basically, killed his son. It isn't until Blackpoole introduces Nate to 'Portia' and we see Sophie turn around that it becomes clear that we're on the con, which I think is done very nicely. Only then giving the viewer the "how we got here" part is just great.

This episode of course also brings us, finally, Maggie (yes, I'll ask again: where do I address my Maggie For Leverage: Redemption campaign to?). I absolutely love how she is introduced here as Eliot's date. I also love how absolutely terrified Eliot looks once he realises that she isn't just anyone, but Nate's ex-wife. Maggie is such an excellent character, and I adore her. I also am very appreciative that this episode holds the singular moment of jealousy Sophie has toward Maggie. After her momentary outburst as Maggie tells Nate she hasn't stopped caring about him, we never see it again. Even better, once Maggie learns about Nate's crew, Sophie and her even become friends. And it is lovely.

We also have some great Parker/Hardison moments in this episode as well. I adore Parker and her enthusiasm for their "little naked man" and Hardison being weirded out about it (and turning the little David around so Parker can change in private). I, of course, absolutely love the kiss (and Eliot's grinning question at Sophie who of the two of them Parker had kissed) and then the theft of the First David. Hardison is so in awe of Parker and it is a sight to behold.

I also quite enjoy the "downfall" in this episode. Sterling showing up (we love the bastard), the fight between Eliot and Mr Quinn, the conversation about Sophie conning them on the roof, and then of course the final confrontations on that same roof as well as the HQ. This whole thing of "and then I asked myself, what would Parker do?" / "but then I thought, what would Hardison do?" is just brilliant and lovely. It shows how far they have all come throughout this first season and how much they have learned from each other already. I am very fond of it.

I am sad about the offices being blown up, though. As much as I love both McRory's pub and Nate's apartment in Boston, as well as the Brewpub in Portland, I've always really liked the LA offices as well. It was their first home and it was lovely. I am however very happy that Old Nate made it out unscathed.

113: THE SECOND DAVID JOB

D: DEAN DEVLIN. W: JOHN ROGERS & CHRIS DOWNEY. Original Air Date: 24 February 2009.

And the last episode! As I've said above, I adore how this opening sequence mirrors that of The First David Job. Similarly, I also love how until Sophie notices Parker's laser pointer and Eliot sees Hardison, as a viewer you assume they are on the job together, which is again the reversal of the first half of the finale. Just lovely storytelling, I adore it. Speaking of mirrors, the scene in the MC Hammer mansion where Nate inconspicuously manages to get them all thinking about the con together and putting their differences aside once more, also mirrors one of my favourite scenes from the first episode of season two, where the team does the same to Nate.

This episode on the whole I also just marvellous. Eliot's awkward date with Maggie, Nate finally telling Maggie about Blackpoole's involvement (or lack thereof) in Sam's death, the team involving Maggie in the planning of the con and her, precious as she is, questioning Nate's ability to just get people to do what he wants -- it is all just so good. I love Maggie on the con, too. Sophie coaching her, how good Maggie is at it immediately. Just lovely.

Then, of course, the entirety of the con from the moment Nate shows up at the museum. Sterling hurrying all over the place trying to figure out what Nate's plan is, finding out about the mummy, the release of the gas, the evacuation, the David statue replicas, them finally getting in and finding Nate alone in the exhibit room. I adore that shot of him leaning against the display case with the two Davids still inside, only highlighted from the open hatch in the roof. It is such a beautiful shot. I really enjoy Nate and Sterling's dynamic here, too. And I am very happy that Maggie gets to punch Blackpoole just like Nate got to in the episode before. They both deserve to give this man hell.

The ending of this episode and therefore this season always has me in all of my emotions. If I didn't know there would be more after this, I would just go lie down and weep for a while after watching it. The trademark overhead walkaway shot is of course a must, but the fact that they stop, that all of them hesitate, thinking about turning around, thinking about changing their minds. And then it cuts to black, and if this had been it, we would've never known! Ah, what a show, what a first season. I am completely in love with this show, as pretty much everyone knows, but I just -- this show is so damn good. It gets me every single time. Every time.

[image taken from the electricnow website]

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my-writings-and-musings · 4 years ago

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Same anon thank you for answering my question! I was wondering if you could do headcanons for MTMTE Rung, Megatron, Rodimus, Minimus, and Swerve with an Artisic human reader that just sees the good and creative artist side of everything? From books to pictures to even their own bot? Like they can just look at their bot and go out on a whole rant on how beautiful their optics are from the color to their expression. if that’s too many characters you can take any one, I don’t mind! Thank you and have a good day ❤️

You're welcome! I'm always open for clarification, so feel free to ask questions about whatever you'd like if you're unsure on anything. I took a little liberty with this one, but I've got all the requested bots because darn it all these beautiful mechs deserve recognition!

Rung

·He discovers your artistic inclination thanks to years of experience reading personalities and emotions at a glance, but he wasn't prepared for the depth of your conviction in seeing the world through a creative lens, which he learned upon speaking to you about your process as an artist. This surprise grows as he sees you sketching around the ship, your exuberance for the inherent beauty in everything coming through in every conversation you share.

·When he praises some of your sketches on a quiet day in his office and is compelled to ask how you developed your style, he's fascinated by your explanation, and his spark is warmed by how beautifully you describe the world around you and credit it for inspiring you. He's visibly shocked when your list of current subjects and muses includes him specifically, and you can't help but chuckle at the usually calm bot looking so absolutely flustered. There's no way for him to hide any of that feeling when he requests a bit of clarification; there's hundreds of bots on board, what about him could possibly stand out?

·You're happy to elaborate on your process to a bot who so regularly underestimates his worth and lay out why he in particular piques your interest. The warmth and goodness of his being is such a rare and beautiful thing, you explain, but also so rarely appreciated that it drives you to try and capture that essence in a manner one can see. How could you not? Such compassion and empathy and forgiveness should be remembered! You've also seen that he's capable of accepting any genuine apology, and to have that level of mercy after so much war is beautiful, enough that you have to try and show it.

·To say he's touched is an understatement of unfathomable proportions. Removing his lenses to clear optics blurred with tears, he doesn't even know how to begin processing your praise of his character when you add that his physical self hardly fails to encourage you either. His glasses nearly slip from his hands when he hears you say that. You continue quite easily; the kindness in his optics and the sweetness of his smile, combined with his genuinely handsome profile, simply inspire you to start sketching.

·He's touched, but you have to understand, he is NOT accustomed to this level of praise. Between the near tears and the blushing he has to politely excuse himself to recover from this absolute tsunami of emotions, but being flustered and melted at once is enough to have him smiling through a little blush all day long. While he tries to take a little bit of your mindset into his everyday life going forward, he gets a bit dazed every time he sees a sketch of yours that includes his face, as that level of artistic devotion being dedicated to him is more than he'll ever be able to process. Not that he minds...

Megatron

·Being more familiar with the written word, he enjoys the arts but has little experience with those who create them, and time has not been on his side in regards to learning more. Thus, you're one of the first artistically inclined individuals he's been able to discuss the topic with, which he was motivated to do after catching a glimpse of your work. He could swear some of your sketches bear a resemblance to him, but he says nothing on the matter and is certain his optics are tricking him.

·Your talk of technique quickly surprises him by shifting to inspiration, which to you is the primary driving force of your work, as it influences how you go about conveying the subject matter. Eager to share what you mean, you explain that anything can have beauty worthy of capturing if you just take the time to look at it right. Even the most mundane or seemingly unappealing things can be remarkable if you know their story, and you want to convey that energy as wordlessly as possible.

·A little overwhelmed but quite impressed by your manner of reasoning, he rather jokingly asks if even beings like himself could ever inspire you, or perhaps another artist with your mindset. He's caught off gaurd like never before when you, quite enthusiastically, reply that he most certainly can and does! To keep his composure he recalls portraits of his likeness being commissioned to inspire his soldiers, but never believing these fell under the category of art so much as they did propaganda. They often depicted him quite... violently as well.

·Having never seen these pieces, you reply that your own experience is tied more to how you see him now, and you flip through your sketchbook to demonstrate. As close to your level as can be, he's speechless while you explain what you wanted to capture about him in each sketch, whether it's a quick study or a detailed project; and that's how safe he makes you feel. Hearing himself referred to as a protector cuts straight through his powerful armor.

·You depict him looking almost... gentle? Hearing you describe the his immense size as a source of comfort and his strength as a tool of keeping peace processes about as clearly to him as a foreign language, but he nods along and keeps the conversation going until his duties call him away. Though he says nothing of it, he volunteers himself for more of the physically demanding work around the ship. His body's purpose had always been decided for him, but you've reminded him he has the only true say in its use, and that everything really is a matter of perspective. Perhaps he'll take up sketching once this is all over.

Rodimus

·He's certainly always had an appreciation for visual appeal, even if his idea of beauty doesn't often overlap with what most would consider artistically valuable. This and his natural alertness makes him quick to notice you often sketch about the ship, frequently when he's present, but at first he leaves you alone to work in peace. Having a hobby on this crew is beyond valuable, and he doesn't want to distract you from a passion... That is, until he decides on one especially slow day to just ask you what you like to doodle about.

·You can tell he wants to be a little nosy, if only because he's naturally a curious bot about these things, but you're more than happy to share regardless. There's a lot due to the ample downtime on the quest, and he has to squint so he can properly scan the many sketches on the human sized paper. He happily recognizes friends, locales about the ship, even earth things he knows about... but he's not ready when he finds a picture of himself.

·While he remains outwardly playful, teasing you with how he'd pose if you only asked, he's internally flattered that you took the time to draw him. More specifically, he's touched by the way you drew him. The sketches and portraits portray him as a calm but amicable leader, standing tall and serving as a guide to those around him, a true "father to his men" kind of bot... it's everything he wants to be, but is quite certain he's not. He's barely able to keep up his smooth persona when he asks about your process.

·You explain that you find inspiration in everything, but he's been your chosen subject lately for a lot of reasons. It's no secret he's handsome, but you see something more when you look at him, and you did everything you could to show it here; there's a real leader in him. Maybe some bots don't see it under all the bluster and sarcasm, but you see how much he cares for every bot on his crew. He wants to be the best for all of them, and even if he struggles at times, that effort is beautiful to you.

·It takes everything in him to bite back some very embarrassing tears, and the crack in his voice doesn't help him hide the emotion, though he covers that up with unconvincing coughs and claims something got in his optic. From then on he seems to stand a little taller and find his assigned duties a little easier to bear, but you absolutely notice how he poses in what he believes to be heroic fashion whenever your sketchbook comes out. Inspired by his enthusiasm, you invite him to model more officially, and the crew is just happy to see him so enthusiastic.

Minimus

·Being as observant as he is, your consistent appraisal of your surroundings is not something he'd ever miss, but your frequent sketching in the most random places does leave him absolutely mystified. Every time he sees you there's artistic supplies on your person, but he can't find anything that appears to be worthy of putting to paper, so what could you be drawing? He respects your privacy too much, and feels too silly about his curiosity, to interpret and ask you for an explanation.

·Thus it's with some small eagerness that he finds one of your sketchbooks after it's been misplaced, and he sees the perfect opportunity to slip in a question. For the sake of handling something so tiny, he approaches without his armor, offering the lost item back with barely concealed pride at your delight to have it returned. In the moment of truth he nearly falters, but does indeed manage to ask what you draw around the ship. He leaves out the fact that he's observed you whenever you draw in his presence.

·The question has an answer only he seems to think isn't obvious; him! You spend time together frequently, and while everything is fair game for sketching, he's a very regular subject for you. Whether he's wearing the Magnus armor or not, you explain that the commanding aura he radiates is something you can't help but find beautiful. That word choice baffles him enough that he has to interrupt; beautiful? Commanding? Even without his armor?? You're delighted to assure him that you absolutely mean that.

·Hearing you describe the details of your reasoning, like the quiet dignity of his stance or the calm intelligence of his red optics, touches his spark in ways he wasn't expecting. He's calm and speaks softly as he keeps the conversation going, asking questions about your various works and listening attentively when you answer, processing your view of the universe as being packed with beauty in all the places people don't think to look.

·Any bot that sees him during the remainder of the day absolutely notices the change to his entire demeanor; namely that he's smiling a soft and barely perceptible smile. It's not long after he requests a few sketches from you to keep in his office, whether they're of him or not, and he has them framed in places of honor. He doesn't tell you, but you figure it out, that one particular drawing of him you gift for his sake is kept securely stored in a compartment by his spark.

Swerve

·Many bots may see him being a tad bit on the shallow side when it comes to the arts, but our beloved barkeep has his own unique appreciation for creativity and all the ways it can be visually expressed, and you recognize it not long after meeting him. As his bar is a frequent hangout for everyone, you find it to be a fantastic place to sit and sketch, as the variety of bots makes it quite easy to have your choice of subjects even if you have to sit on a table. Obviously Swerve notices and asks you what you're drawing when traffic slows one evening.

·You're happy to show him your work and he's always eager to hear what everyone is up to, so he starts asking questions about your art in general. How long have you been an artist? What's it like suddenly having a whole ship of aliens to sketch? Why draw here all the time? At that query you light up brilliantly, and he's delighted by your enthusiasm as you describe all the incredible sights the bar has to offer.

·You list some of your favorite things to draw, like the many friend groups on the ship that gather here, the brilliant colors of the glowing vats of enjex, and him smiling and rushing with orders through it all. That last one gets a flash of surprise from behind his visor, which is quickly overtaken by exuberant delight; you've been drawing him?! He babbles out a surge of confusing statements that you're eventually able to interpret as a request to see, just one he's too bashful to say directly.

·Happily obliging, you're touched by how he smiles at every little sketch, and feel compelled to explain that he's a big part of why you love drawing here. You try to see beauty in everything, even what often gets overlooked, and there's so very much of that here. The bar is one of those places that everyone knows is special, but you know he's the reason they love it like they do, and that his enthusiasm and hard work hold it all together. You find that inspiring, and actually quite beautiful. It doesn't hurt that his brilliant smile is always a treat to sketch.

·Trying to play it cool and totally failing, he doesn't quite hide that he's near to tears when he asks if you'd like to hang some of your work up in the bar, or maybe have a little corner for yourself to draw from. He just doesn't want you getting squished while you sketch, is all! And having a better vantage point is ideal for someone so small! When you accept, he gives you your own human sized accommodations not too far from the heart of the bar, and every so often when you sketch he'll glance up at you absolutely beaming.

#transformers #more than meets the eye #mtmte #idw #lost light #maccadam #tf #rung #megatron #minimus ambus #rodimus #swerve #self insert #human reader #requests #anon #my writing #transformers headcanon #my asks

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somethingimworkingon · 4 years ago

Text

Zanele Muholi, Tate Modern

Walking into the Zanele Muholi exhibition at Tate Modern is like discovering another country.

In 2017 Muholi’s ongoing self-portrait series, Somnyama Ngonyama/Hail the Dark Lioness, was exhibited in London’s Autograph Gallery. In press reviews and posters on the tube that autumn, the images were unmissable and unmistakeable: stark black and white photographs of an impassive face crowned with Brillo pads or clothes pegs, festooned with vacuum cleaner hoses. At the time, Autograph wrote, the artist: “uses her body as a canvas to confront the politics of race and representation… Gazing defiantly at the camera, Muholi challenges the viewer’s perceptions while firmly asserting her cultural identity on her own terms: black, female, queer, African.”

Fast forward to 2020, and Tate Modern’s major Zanele Muholi exhibition. Visiting hours at the museum flicker in and out of existence as we navigate COVID lockdowns – now you can come! No, wait, sorry, you can’t. Try rebooking for a month’s time.

When I finally squeaked in, in early December, I expected more Dark Lionesses. I had a vague idea that Zanele Muholi was a bit like a South African Cindy Sherman.

I was wrong.

This exhibition shows the breadth of Muholi’s practice, of which the self-portraits are just one strand. The range and energy of the work is astounding. Especially given that in 2012 their studio was burgled and five years of work on hard drives was stolen.

Another mental adjustment: Muholi’s pronouns are they/them/theirs.

Born in Umlazi, South Africa, in 1972, at the height of Apartheid, Zanele’s father died when they were a baby and their mother, Bester, a domestic worker, had to leave her eight children for employment in a white household. Zanele was brought up by extended family. They started working as a hairdresser, then studied photography at Market Photo Workshop in Johannesburg, graduating in 2003, and going on to be awarded their MFA in Documentary Media from Ryerson University in Toronto in 2009.

On returning to South Africa they started to document the lives of the LGBTQI+ community.

Aftermath (2004)

The exhibition opens with a group of deceptively gentle images. In the first, Aftermath (2004), a torso is cropped from waist to knees, hands modestly clasped in front of Jockey shorts, a huge scar running down the person’s right leg almost like a piece of body art. In another, Ordeal (2003), hands wring out a cloth in an enamel basin of water placed on a floor. A third image shows a cropped, seated figure, again waist to thighs, hands folded in their lap, plastic hospital ties around their wrists. These pictures have a softness and beauty which completely belies the fact that their subjects are all survivors of sexual violence and “corrective rape”.

As the caption to the last picture, Hate crime survivor I, Case number (2004) explains, “Corrective rape is a term used to describe a hate crime in which a person is raped because of their perceived sexual orientation or gender identity. The intended consequence of such acts is to enforce heterosexuality and gender conformity.” This horrific practice is by no means unique to South Africa, but the term seems to have originated there – feminist activist Bernedette Muthien used it during an interview with Human Rights Watch in 2001 – and its effects on the community resonate throughout this exhibition.

Ordeal (2003)

They don’t, however, dominate. While the exhibition starts by showing the evils of intolerance of gender nonconformity, Muholi goes on to reclaim, elevate and celebrate that same nonconformity.

With Being (2006 – ongoing) we move on to photographs of naked bodies entwined – again tightly cropped, again soft black and white, but now without outside interference. They are sensual, personal, and owned. A series of portraits of two female lovers, Katlego Mashiloane and Nosipho Lavuta (2007) switches to colour and full figures. The couple sit entwined, laughing: they kiss, and bathe side by side standing in an enamel basin, in a warm, defiant echo of the scene in Ordeal (2003) across the room.

Katlego Mashiloane and Nosipho Lavuta, Ext.2, Lakeside, Johannesburg (2007)

The series Brave Beauties, started in 2014, is “a series of portraits of trans women, gender non-conforming and non-binary people. Many of them are also beauty pageant contestants.” The queer beauty pageant is many things: a celebration – and redefinition – of beauty, a declaration of independence by contestants, a challenge to “heteronormative and white supremacist cultures,” and an attempt, as Muholi puts it, “to change mind-sets in the communities [the contestants] live in, the same communities where they are most likely to be harassed or worse.”

Melissa Mbambo, Durban, South Beach (2017). Melissa Mbambo is a trans woman and beauty queen, Miss Gay South Africa 2017

Roxy Msizi Dlamini, Parktown, Johannesburg (2018)

Akeelah Gwala, Durban (2020)

These portraits are made collaboratively, Muholi and the subjects choosing clothing, location and poses together. Some of them, like the picture of Roxy Msizi Dlamini (2018) have the quality of a classic glamorous studio shot. Others, like Akeeleh Gwala, Durban (2020), posing in a bikini against a scruffy brick wall in what seems to be a deserted brick alleyway, are a reminder of the vulnerability of the subject. Akeelah Gwala’s “Testimony” in the exhibition catalogue says: “I am 24 years old. I am a transgender woman. Growing up was very difficult because your parents think this is a boy… I was raped when I was 16 years old…” The rapist, a well-known pastor, threatened Akeelah’s family, forcing them out of their home. Akeelah refers to Muholi as “Sir Muholi” and says, “I have taken part in several beauty pageants. I perform because as a Brave Beauty, it is important to be visible and make others know about us and respect us as human beings.”

Miss Lesbian I-VII, Amsterdam (2009)

The theme of beauty pageants also features in the series of self-portraits Miss Lesbian I-VII, Amsterdam (2009), where Muholi casts themself as a beauty queen, an early identification with the wider community prefiguring Brave Beauties. The 2009 series brings together several of Muholi’s themes: the beauty pageant and the fashion/fashion magazine world; who gets to perform and who gets to watch; who gets to choose what beauty means? And, as an aside that may sound trivial but isn’t, kitchen utensils as headgear.

As the exhibition unfolds, we discover other projects. Muholi describes themselves as a visual activist, and they have a large network of collaborators, including the collective Inkanyiso (“Light” or “Illuminate” in isiZulu), a non-profit organisation focused on queer visual activism. We see images documenting marches and protests, weddings and funerals, and “After Tears” – gatherings held after burials to celebrate the life of the lost loved one.

Nathi Dlamini at the After Tears of Muntu Masombuka’s funeral, KwaThema, Springs, Johannesburg (2014)

Death is a constant presence in Muholi’s community and work. The largest space in this exhibition is given to Faces and Phases (2006 – ongoing), a collection of portraits – 500, and counting. The images “celebrate, commemorate and archive the lives of Black lesbians, transgender and gender non-conforming individuals.” People appear more than once. Some spots on the walls are empty, marking a portrait yet to be taken or a participant no longer there. One wall is dedicated to those who have passed away.

Not only is this a powerful and moving project, it’s an extraordinarily beautiful set of pictures. As are the last works in the show, the series that started in 2012: Somnyama Ngonyama, Hail the Dark Lioness.

In this work, Muholi has darkened their skin and whitened their eyes, and composed the picture in the manner of a classical, perfectly-lit studio portrait, posing with found objects as “costume” – a footstool as a helmet, say. There is so much to unpick in these images – references to colonialism, Apartheid, to the politics of race and representation, to femininity and “women’s work”. Muholi presents us with a kaleidoscope of views of injustice, equal parts beautiful and brutal. The photographs were created in different parts of the world, at different times, combining what could almost be witty accessorising with intense cultural and political commentary.

Quinso, The Sails, Durban (2019)

The intellectual focus of every picture is slightly different. Zamile, KwaThema (2016) shows Muholi draped in a striped blanket, as used in South African prisons during Apartheid. In Quinso, The Sails, Durban (2019) Muholi’s hair is adorned with silvery Afro combs, a symbol of African and African diaspora cultural pride. In Nolwazi II, Nuoro, Italy (2015) their hair is stuffed with pens – a reference to the “pencil test” whereby, under Apartheid, if a pencil pushed into a person’s hair fell out they were “classified as white”.

Nolwazi II, Nuoro, Italy (2015)

As mentioned above, Muholi calls themselves a visual activist rather than an artist – though galleries, like Tate Modern, might beg to disagree. Walking through this exhibition, I came away with the impression that their work is on the intersection of art and documentary photography – but also that everything is documentary: everything is story telling, and bearing witness, and the place where “documenting the community” and “expressing oneself as an artist” is continually blurred.

Maybe it’s not just like discovering a new country: maybe Zanele Muholi is showing us a whole new world.

Zanele Muholi is at Tate Modern until May 31, 2021

#zanele muholi #tate modern

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annabethisterrified · 4 years ago

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Book Review: THE TOWER OF NERO (The Trials of Apollo #5)

***No spoilers until you go under the cut!***

After months in the human form of Lester Papadopoulos, the former god Apollo is nearing the end of his trials alongside the young Meg McCaffrey. All their adventures and misfortunes have landed them back in the place it started-- New York. Meg and Apollo must defeat the final, most powerful emperor of the Triumvirate, who also happens to be Meg’s manipulative stepfather. Meanwhile, Nico, Will, and Rachel have important roles to play as the final battle looms. Even if they can defeat Nero, a more terrible enemy awaits in the form of Python, Apollo’s nemesis. Still, if they can succeed, Apollo will finally be restored to godhood. But after everything he’s been through, going back to the way things were doesn’t sound so great anymore. Apollo and his friends will have to find a new way to make all the sacrifices and pain they’ve experienced and witnessed worth it. That is, if they can survive their final trial.

As both the culmination of The Trials of Apollo series and the Camp Half-Blood Chronicles, The Tower of Nero excels at bringing the complicated, moving themes of the saga into final, meaningful reckonings. Nero proves to be a chilling and impressive enemy who forces Apollo and Meg to put everything they’ve learned through their journey together to the ultimate test. New and old characters combine to see the story to its end, and long-time readers are rewarded with actualized development and a bittersweet farewell. The Tower of Nero is a fitting and robust conclusion that shines with all the heart, humor, and growth that makes this saga a worthy frontrunner in children’s literature.

SPOILER SECTIONS BELOW

Welcome!!!!!!!!! Y’all. Y’ALL. I am REELING. If you’ve been around here a while, you probably know I’ve been online here since 2012 (?????!!!!!) where I subjected by followers to weird takes and frantic excitement about the upcoming installments of Heroes of Olympus, then Trials of Apollo. Since I was ten years old, this story has been such a huge part of my life. Now I’m 22 (?????!!!!). So. How am I feeling? I’m feeling like I need to flip over every piece of furniture in my house. In a good way. Look. I gotta break this down into three parts because I’m the worst!

I. TRIALS & TRIBULATION

The Trials of Apollo, to me, felt like the inevitable conclusion to Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Heroes of Olympus. We went through two series where we intimately followed the lives of young demigods growing up through two brutal wars, dangerous quests, and personal reckonings. Gods certainly made appearances, and some were more helpful than others, but the message was always clear-- the demigods were on their own. Two wars fought, two wars won, and at what cost? For what change?

Bringing a god down to earth (both literally and metaphorically) is really the only way a story like this could be rounded out. Especially when the god in question is Apollo. He’s the son of Zeus, who punishes him by turning him mortal. This family set-up already has enormous implications in reference to the previous chain of mythological events: Zeus killed his father Kronos, Kronos killed his father Ouranos, etc.

Prophecy is also the scaffolding of this entire saga. Everything is dictated by it-- every quest relies on it, most of the demigods we meet are led by it, and the whole Greek/Roman world seems to build their lives around it. My point is, Apollo was a great character to use as the mouthpiece of this last series. He’s been present throughout the previous two series, and he’s relatively unaffected by the Greek/Roman divide. The enemy, the Triumvirate, is also an exciting antagonist-- they’ve fueled and funded the previous two wars, and their obsession with becoming “gods” is loaded with implications as Apollo races to return to his own status as a god.

Apollo himself is also a completely terrible being. From the first pages through his perspective, there’s certainly little sympathy or commiseration with our narrator. Apollo is many things: spoiled, petulant, selfish, and arrogant. He is not good, and now, he is no longer a god. Still, his voice and struggle remained compelling and engaging throughout the series.

His bond with Meg McCaffrey is, without a doubt, the emotional heart of the whole series. I think they both see aspects of themselves in each other, and it was a genius move to make her the stepdaughter of the enemy. Nero literally sent Meg to be Apollo’s controller and thought that she would easily bring him down; the fact that both these very troubled people cling to each other in the face of such manipulation and frightening circumstances-- and then repeatedly choose to fight their ways back to each other time and again-- is really what makes this series work so well.

With Meg and Apollo at the forefront, after The Hidden Oracle the series takes on something of a “tour” format. We discover new places and revisit old characters across the country, which was definitely exciting for long-time readers to see familiar faces undergo even more development. (This might just be me, but I don’t think ToA can really stand on its own without the worldbuilding/establishment of the first two series-- that’s not a knock on it, but so much of it picks up where the previous series left off, which might make it a disorienting read for someone new to the world.)

Of course, the obvious midpoint reversal of the series is the death of Jason Grace in The Burning Maze. A flip switches completely-- not just for Apollo, but for the whole cast. This is not an incident that just “happens” and is swept aside. In the final two installments, Jason is threaded throughout the story, showing how grief is never truly over. But his sacrifice saved everyone he loved, and had profound impacts on everyone he knew. As brutal as it was, I appreciated how Jason really changed everything through his choice.

By the time Apollo and Meg return to New York in The Tower of Nero, they are better, stronger versions of themselves. The things they once wanted-- godhood restored, or a father’s approval-- are no longer appealing. Their development (both individually and as friends) is utterly believable and hard-won. We see characters from The Hidden Oracle return changed, too. Losing Jason has dredged up dark feelings within Nico, Rachel is warding off the influence of Python in her mind, and Will’s healer heart is put to the test in yet another final battle. (Listen, this kid played instrumental roles in The Last Olympian, The Blood of Olympus, AND The Tower of Nero. The fate of the world really is in his capable, glow-in-the-dark hands.)

Together, Apollo and team venture into Manhattan for a very intense, exciting, and profound final reckoning with Nero. (CHAPTER 20, ANYONE????) Both Apollo and Meg, once and for all, come into their own and reclaim their power and independence. The pay-off is immaculate, and it’s jarring to remember the Apollo we once knew-- the easygoing one from The Titan’s Curse, the snobbish one from The Blood of Olympus, and the self-pitying one from The Hidden Oracle. His development throughout ToA is seamless and incredibly moving, and we’re left with a protagonist that we can truly, unequivocally root for and love.

II. HAVE YOU LEARNED?

When Nero is defeated, the real enemy still lurks. Apollo’s age-old nemesis, Python, has long haunted him. Their final reckoning is one-on-one, and after everything Apollo’s learned and been through, he goes into his last battle not necessarily caring whether he lives or dies-- he just knows Python must be defeated, no matter the cost. Don’t get me STARTED on his last conversation with Meg!!!!?????? (”Just come back to me, dummy.” I LOVE THEM)

So, yeah, I’m already crying at that point. Apollo (slowly regaining his godhood) goes into this completely by himself, assuming all risk and responsibility. He’s forced to sacrifice the Arrow of Dodona, and eventually chooses to sacrifice himself by flinging them both down to Tartarus. But we don’t stop there! Oh, no, we go all the way down to Chaos. The primordial soup of all the pantheons, all of existence. Python crumbles, and Apollo clings to the edge-- he clings to life.

This is it. This is the literal rock-bottom moment of the saga, and I’m completely unsure of how he’s getting out of this one. Who’s going to rescue him? What can he even do at this point? Genuinely, I had no idea where this was going-- and I never would have guessed that it would be the goddess Styx who shows up. She’s played an important, but also very minor, role in ToA. I was baffled at first-- I thought, what does she have to do with any of this? But then it ended up playing out in like the most breathtaking, moving way possible. It’s one of the most defining scenes of the entire 15 books to me.

She only asks him: “Have you learned?”

This is the goddess of promises and oaths. Since The Lightning Thief, we’ve seen how oaths are tossed around like confetti. Percy’s very existence (not to mention Thalia and Jason’s) is because of a broken promise. An oath to keep with a final breath is one of the revisited elements throughout the Heroes of Olympus series. Apollo makes willy-nilly promises in The Hidden Oracle, which he later regrets.

Then, at the end of everything, Styx only asks Apollo if he’s learned. All the talk of promises and oaths in this story doesn’t actually have anything to do with “keeping promises”-- certainly, so many promises are broken we can’t keep track. It all boils down to whether we learn from what we experience and use that to become better people moving forward. It’s about making sure we mean what we say and what we do. It’s about commitment and devotion to the people we love and the things we care about. Promises don’t matter. Only action does.

I can’t understate how thoroughly pleased I was that this was the final reckoning of the saga. It was an unexpected and completely profound moment, and such an important scene to use as the emotional climax of the book.

III. WHERE WE GO FROM HERE

After 15 years and 15 books, The Tower of Nero had to find a way to bring the saga to a close without nailing the coffin shut. More standalone novels are surely on the horizon (I’m looking at you, Nico and Will), but as a whole, this saga did need to come to a satisfying end.

Let’s pick up after Apollo is restored to godhood. He wakes up to his sister Artemis, and the very first thing he does? After finally returning to his true form, the thing he’s relentlessly yearned for the whole series? He just breaks down sobbing. He’s miserable. There’s no relief or joy in the realization that he’s once again an Olympian.

I’m always a sucker for the trope of “Character does everything possible to reach Goal only to realize that Goal isn’t actually what they want or need at all”, so of course, I was moved to see Apollo learn that he doesn’t actually care much about whether he’s a god or a human anymore. (In fact, he later remarks that he envies Lu’s new ability to grow old and age alongside Meg and her foster siblings.)

I was doubly-moved that Apollo’s restoration to godhood was not an action on Zeus’s part. From what little context we get (a lot happens “off screen” and even Apollo isn’t sure), it appears that Apollo either reclaimed his own godhood through sheer force of will to return from Chaos and reunite with his friends, and/or Styx aided him. But it seems obvious Zeus wasn’t involved, which has HUGE implications for the power structure of the Olympians moving forward.

A lot of us, myself included, had certain expectations for how Apollo’s inevitable reunion with Zeus and the rest of the Olympians would go. I, for one, was excited to see Apollo either tell off his father, or possibly assume a position as the new Camp Half-Blood director or New Rome’s pontifex maximus. Instead, we got a somewhat quiet, but incredibly tense interaction between all the Olympians. The closest thing to an outburst is actually between Hera and Zeus, as she tells him off for not mourning his son Jason, as Apollo did. (Dare I say....I liked Hera for a moment?) (ALSO, I’m fully on-board with the theory that Zeus did not intervene in Jason’s death as a punishment for Jason publicly calling him “unwise” in The Blood of Olympus.)

The whole scene reads as a powder keg. Already, it’s established that Apollo, Artemis, and Dionysus (and possibly even Athena and Hera) have no illusions of Zeus’s grandeur. They do not view him as family, or even as a leader. He’s simply just the one with enough power to punish the rest of them when they get “out of line”.

Apollo began naming Zeus as his abuser fairly early on in the series. Perhaps witnessing the way Meg thinks and speaks about her stepfather Nero made this clear for him. In either case, he begins to explicitly mirror the very same advice he gives Meg in dealing with her abuser: distance yourself from the abusive person/situation, and accept that tyrants do not change and it is not your responsibility to attempt to make them “see the light”. Thus, Apollo makes no appeal or argument to Zeus– he understands by then that it’d be fruitless. Instead, he’s concentrating his energy on doing everything he can do with what he has; he’s committed to being a protector and friend of demigods, and he sees that other gods are beginning to (if not already) see Zeus’s wrongness. (More on this here.)

Was it what I expected going into the book? Nope. But I have to admit that it was really exciting to see Zeus try to hide the very real fear of realizing that his son Apollo is no longer afraid of him, and is quite possibly more powerful than him, too. Apollo switches gears entirely away from Zeus, and focuses his energy back on the friends he’s made and the children he has. It’s a refreshing reminder that it’s often more productive to concentrate on helping others instead of harming those who harm us.

That being said, I would have liked a few paragraphs or pages discussing what practical differences there will be for the lives of young demigods in the wake of this change. I understand that might not have worked given the very condensed timeline post-returning-to-godhood (the story ends literally the same day or day after), but I do hope and believe that Apollo’s transformation is going to change the way demigods perceive gods-- and what they will expect of gods in the future. Just look at how Apollo is received by the campers at CHB. They’re ecstatic to see him. They think of him as a hero. Apollo is coming back just to help and spend time with his kids, his friends, and the campers, and he’s going to keep coming back. The other gods are certainly going to feel some pressure to follow suit.

Speaking of Apollo’s reunions...shall we?

I loved that we got to see all the main-players one last time. Mimicking the “tour format” of the series, we get to watch Apollo catch up with his loved ones, who helped him learn how to be a better person throughout his trials.

It was sad, but reassuring, to watch Nico come to terms with Jason’s death. I like how he outlined the differences between Hazel’s and Jason’s deaths, and why he isn’t interfering out of respect for Jason. Watching Jason appear to Apollo (ambiguously as a ghost or as a figment of Apollo’s dream-imagination) was another moving reminder of the stark differences in the ways that different demigods prioritize and think about what it is to be a hero. Jason’s idea and Percy’s idea, for instance, are super different because of the way they were raised. Percy would put anything on the line for his family and friends; so would Jason, of course, but he also has a much broader view of what’s worth sacrificing your life for...which is admirable in ways, but also painfully sad, since a lot has to change in order for Jason’s death to carry weight. Over the course of the last two books, I think it’s very safe to say Jason’s death did change just about everything for the people who knew and loved him, and even those who didn’t.

Whew. Okay, back to Camp Half-Blood. Nico and Will are clearly now very comfortable with each other, and it’s refreshing to see how they both watch out for each other and bring out the best in one another. I’m excited for their inevitable solo book, but regardless, it’s good to see Nico getting the help he needs (from his own experiences, from Dionysus, Will, etc), and for Rachel to get some distance from her terrible parents by living out her art student dreams in Paris.

Then, we drop by the Waystation. I simply cannot get over the fact that Calypso is at BAND CAMP. Anyway, it’s unsurprising to find out that she and Leo are still “complicated”, but I’m glad she’s experiencing the highs and lows of mortal life, and that Leo is working on helping out vulnerable youth (and has two mom figures in his life!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!). Glad we get to see Thalia and Reyna both happy and healthy, too.

Next up, Camp Jupiter and New Rome. LOVE that Hazel and Frank have both reclaimed the curses that haunted them since The Son of Neptune. They really both did just...like...basically die to bring down the Big Bad and then come back better than ever. (Side note: I still obviously have issues with the fact that Hazel is SO YOUNG! There was no reason for her not to be 15/16 like the rest of the Argo 2 crew! Ugh.)

Anyway, then we say goodbye to Percy and Annabeth. Except for the annoying continuity error in terms of the timeline of them learning about Jason, I really really really loved this parting moment with them. I know some readers wanted Percy and Annabeth to stay in New York, but it always felt very natural and meaningful for me that they’d want to relocate to New Rome. That was always the Big Dream for most of Heroes of Olympus, and it makes sense to me that they’d choose to live somewhere designed for demigods to actually live and grow old and raise families. Besides, I’m quite certain they’ll frequently be visiting New York. I digress.

It was super bittersweet to see these two finally off on their own (and basically living together, as Apollo teasingly implies) going to college! Definitely a huge sigh of relief and satisfaction after following all their exploits since they were twelve. I’m so glad we get to see them (all things considered) happy and excited for their new life together. They certainly stepped back in this series, as they deserved. But they still lose Jason, and that’s something that weighs heavily on them and likely always will. Apollo calls Jason “the best of us”, and I don’t think that use of “us” is lost on Percy, Annabeth, or anyone-- Apollo’s identity and alignment is with them now, which will hopefully lead to positive change.

Then, simultaneously the saddest and happiest (?) reunion-- with Piper. This was obviously really heavy, since the last time Apollo sees her is in the wake of Jason’s death. For me, I’m very proud and excited by the fact that Piper is the only character who basically forges a whole new life (outside of the sphere of the Olympians) for herself. She’s far from other demigods and gods, and is committed to reconnecting with her mortal family and making a beautiful life. She has a new friend, too, which is absolutely awesome. (I mean, we all KNEW, right? But it’s really great to see this confirmed on-page.) When Piper told Apollo that he did right by Jason, I definitely lost it. And I also just really loved the final beat with her-- Apollo’s stammering a goodbye, but Piper’s already turned around to walk back to her new friend and her new life.

The final farewell, of course, went to Meg McCaffrey. She’s reclaimed Aeithales, and is now foster-sibling-extraordinaire by rescuing Nero’s other adopted demigods and giving them a new chance. Meg’s really matured and grown into such a kind and strong leader, but it was super bittersweet to see how much she still values Apollo. Their reunion just about broke me. They share a bond that no one else will ever understand, and they brought each other out of darkness that nearly ended them both. I literally can’t think of a better final dialogue than what they share:

You’ll come back?

Always. The sun always comes back.

I’m fine!!!

Anyway, this brings me to the closing lines of the story. Just as Percy opens The Lightning Thief by directly addressing the reader, Apollo closes The Tower of Nero by bidding farewell to us.

Call on me. I will be there for you.

On so many levels, this line works really well as the ending. For me, and I imagine for you too if you’re reading this, these 15 books are a pillar of our childhoods. We grew up alongside these characters, and found enormous excitement and identity and magic in these pages. The story may have come to a close, but it lives on within us-- it’s something we can return to time and again for enjoyment and understanding.

More than anything, this story pulled off something I didn’t really know was possible: it makes me feel genuinely and enthusiastically glad to be human, no matter how strange or hard it gets.

____________

My fifth-grade teacher assigned The Lightning Thief as mandatory reading when I was ten years old. I picked it up reluctantly, but from the first lines, I just completely fell into this story. Twelve years since that assignment, I’m now a traditionally-published author myself...writing about what else but mythology, of course. These books saw me from elementary school all the way to post-college life. It’s hard to imagine where I’d be without them-- certainly, I’d never have achieved my lifelong dream of becoming an author, nor would I have found such an incredible online community like the one I’ve found here. I consider myself extremely lucky to have grown up alongside these characters and their incredible story.

I know we’ve likely got more standalones in this world to come, but this is still the end of the saga. I’m sad to see it come to a close, but I’m so ecstatic with the send-off we got, and I’m excited to let the story settle and become a part of me-- something that will always affect how I see the world, something that reminds me of why I write, and something that’s always there to welcome me home.

#review #tower of nero #trials of apollo #the tower of nero #the trials of apollo

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swimfuel · 4 years ago

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okay humanstuck thoughts under the cut

i owe a lot of this to @/rhythmic-idealist's kankri/vantasposting bc holy shit theyve got such a big brain (ill link to their individual posts when im on desktop since im using this to keep all my thoughts straight and i agree with most of what they say wholeheartedly)

general status quo stuff:

signless works in an extremely demanding career involving helping others (i'm leaning towards an attorney who works with organizations and does pro bono work), and is also extensively involved in social justice work outside of his job... he is very rarely home

he loves and cares for his children deeply and tries to express it whenever they're face to face, but the couch in his cramped and messy office has seen far too much use over the years for him to have been able to say it enough

his habits of working himself to the point of exhaustion are handily passed down to his kids btw

the kids had to grow up quickly because signless was out of the house so often and so consistently—kankri, who was already pretty high-strung, has to learn to take care of himself and karkat

they grow up near ms firuzeh maryam, who's their pseudoaunt/grandma (she took in a nine year old kavana vantas when she was about twenty), but they just call her ms rosa

they spent a lot of time in the maryam house growing up, with miss rosa's two nieces. porrim is a year older than kankri, while kanaya and karkat are the same age

kankri grows kinda sensitive to people trying to mother him since it rubs against the notion that he's the "adult of the house" and that he can take care of himself and karkat just fine

(and it also kinda underlines the fact that kankri has no idea what he's doing at the best of times)

and ironically enough, kankri becomes overbearing and naggy towards karkat in his own right, which forestalls them becoming close in any brotherly sort of way

they grow up really just... unable to communicate with one another clearly

karkat develops his ornery exterior in response to kankri's constant stream of opinions and frantic attempts at making up for the presence of a guardian in the house

i think there would actually be some really interesting parallels with rose in this au.. maybe i'm drawing from my own experiences as well but i think he'd begin to assume that every time his brother opens his mouth, he's going to criticize karkat

but instead of reacting like rose with the "making yourself more of a puzzle"/passive aggressive stuff, he gets a more defensive/hackles raised/"argue with you before you can argue with me" approach

and the thing is that they do love each other and would take a bullet for the other etc etc etc.. but they don't know how to express it because they've fallen into these shitty patterns

and it really doesn't help that kankri has grown somewhat resentful of signless over the years... that mix of resentment and fear and love gets more extreme and more polar every time signless gets injured during a political demonstration

i think kankri and signless would also be slightly closer than karkat and signless, as signless' job really only started to ramp up when karkat was less than years old and kankri was in his early double digits

kankri autistic btw its word of god (i am god)

karkat has a pet crab. its name is also karkat. he vents his frustrations to it.

i feel like the vantases exemplify both the best and worst parts of their aspects with one another as well... the strength of their bonds keeps them together and grounded, but TOO grounded. [insert Blood rant here]

the Blood rant:

i define Blood as bonds, responsibility, and the "core". if Life is the fertile soil and everything living on a planet's surface, then Blood is the gravitational core of the planet keeping everything together

i also think Blood, Heart, & Mind work in tandem to define a person just as blood serves to connect the pieces of the human body... Heart is the soul and the self, Mind is the application of one's self through active choices (agency), while Blood defines both the self and the choices one makes in greater detail [and, as an aside, Life provides the physical spark of life needed to keep the heart pumping blood]

OKAY wow that got tangential anyways

SO BASICALLY! too much Blood makes you stagnate, so for example:

kankri is split between staying home with karkat or going to college across the country and being truly unbound for the first time in years

another crisis of Blood: signless is caught between his empathy and responsibility to the whole world and his responsibility to his own children

okay so here's more status quo stuff:

the maryam and vantas kids grow up together and its hilarious because you'll see them all together and its just like (girlboss) (girlboss) (physical manlet) (emotional manlet)

the maryam girls are actually miss rosa's nieces but she took them in when they were both pretty young

the pyropes know the vantases well enough considering pyrope senior and sign have known one another from their respective legal practices for years, but they live on the other side of town

the leijons lived in town when kankri and meulin were very young, but they moved and travelled for a long time before coming back and reestablishing their roots

the captors (psii being one of sign's oldest and closest friends) move into town with the peixes family pretty early on though

the condesce is.. a horrible spouse and guardian, to put it plainly. she's very emotionally manipulative and isn't averse to smacking people around, including her own family. she moves herself and her perfect little family into town so she can properly oversee a new business venture close by

feferi is one of the best young swimmers in the country and has a pretty good shot of getting onto the olympic team.. a lot of this drive to be perfect and to be better results from the condesce's unrelenting pressure and thinly veiled resentment throughout her whole life

so yeah psii, )(ic, feferi, and sollux all live together and it's really not great for anyone involved. (meenah ran away years ago, and crashed on aranea's couch for a pretty long while—mituna moved out with latula for college before psii and the condesce got married)

it gets bad to the point of sollux staying with the maryams for two months while the adults try to sort out that absolute clusterfuck and get the divorce proceedings going (meenah finally convinces feferi to get out and come stay with her and aranea for the duration as well)

in terms of relationships i think latula and porrim were really really close in high school, and probably had some kind of unacknowledged thing going on for a while that never actually turned into anything because latula and mituna were going steady

kankri has had a crush on latula for years but never acted on it for similar reasons

meenah still carries a lot of that give no fucks attitude (it's developed moreso as a defense mechanism here) and can't understand why feferi refuses to leave the condesce with her

okay back to VANTAS MANPAIN i also think that karkat feels the weight of a lot of expectations on his shoulders as well

he feels responsible to live up to the example his dad and his brother set, even if it's to his own detriment—and kankri's oblivious rambling about his grades and his teachers and all his clubs certainly aren't helping the matter

kankri is one of those overinvolved kids taking a million AP's while simultaneously shitting on the collegeboard at every single step

hes this super overachiever anal retentive perfectionist type dude and (just as karkat preemptively criticizes others to forestall their criticisms of him only to harshly criticize himself) kankri subconsciously holds the people around him to the same expectations he holds for himself

so karkat also develops this sense of lacking which, in combination with everything else, culminates in self loathing and thinking he has to solve everyone else's problems and getting horribly mad at himself for every little mistake

GOD i have a lot more but lemme post this before i accidentally close out of the app and lose it all

more little details:

vriska's mom and terezi's mom HATE each other like HATE HATE HATE one another it's so bad

karkat wrote a ten page review of my immortal in middle school

jade is one of nepeta's best online friends

sollux can't raise one eyebrow at a time.. karkat gives him so much grief about it

the vantases eat a lot of shitty renditions of persian dishes until karkat learns to cook because literally the only person in the world with a CHANCE of getting KANKRI VANTAS to make an EDIBLE DISH is miss rosa

kanaya is really good at persian dance too but is VERY VERY embarassed to perform in front of people.. however porrim definitely is not

karkat has insomnia while kankri just stays up stupidly late for assignments that really shouldnt be taken that seriously.. but they both have the same rumination/sleep anxiety thing where your brain goes insane with horrible and depressing scenarios as you try to sleep

and more ideas that i thought were interesting but idk how to fit in the context of this au:

signless and disciple getting married pretty late in life after having been in love for years, the vantases move in with the leijons and karkat suddenly has two sisters

nepeta and karkat are both juniors at this point, meulin is probably in her third year at a local college nearby while kankri is about to start his second year at a university pretty far away

the kids in general honestly but ill figure it out

more random hcs this time with kids:

kanaya and rose get into a flame war online that gradually settles into elaborate courtship rituals

also nepeta + jade online besties

also bec can inexplicably still teleport

the first sbahj movie comes out and the next six months of dave strider junior's high school career are absolute hell

actually hc that dave senior goes by d strider professionally. the d stands for a lot of things

aradia and dave frequent a lot of the same forums but never end up really interacting

meanwhile karkat and john frequent a lot of the same forums and DEFINITELY end up interacting. this turns into grudging (at least on karkat's part) friendship after they find themselves fighting for their lives defending an objectively shitty movie together on the same thread

#humanstuck #vantas family #.

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miserablesme · 3 years ago

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The Les Miserables Changelog Part 6: 1987-1997 West End variations

Hello, everyone! This is the latest edition in my attempt to chronicle all of the musical and lyrical changes which the show Les Miserables has undergone over the years. This time, we're going through the production-specific differences between the official 1987-1997 libretto and the West End productions of the era.

Compared to American productions, the West End production was NOT afraid to improvise a little relative to what the books said. It was simultaneously willing to hold on to things the official libretto abandoned, and to add in details not done elsewhere. (Incidentally this reportedly was true with the staging as well as the lyrics, though this blog is focused on the latter.)

It’s worth noting that the show went through many iterations throughout the decade. For the sake of coherence I’m separating this post into each variant.

Oh, and because this entails many different versions of the musical, and most of these lyrical changes can be seen and discussed in other posts of my blog, this post will be significantly less thorough than most of mine regarding my thoughts on the changes. With all that cleared up, let us begin!

Circa 1987-1988 variant

During “On Parole”, the official lyrics of the innkeepers have since 1987 been:

My rooms are full

And I’ve no supper to spare

I’d like to help a stranger

All we want is to be fair

The West End production maintained the original version instead:

My rooms are full

And I’ve no supper to spare

I’d like to help you really

All I want is to be fair

"At the End of the Day" reverses a line. Officially Valjean usually sings:

What is this fighting all about?

Will someone tear these two apart?

Instead, the West End show has him ask:

Will someone tear these two apart?

What is this fighting all about?

The 1987 libretto had these (solo) lyrics to “The Runaway Cart”:

Don’t go near him, Monsieur Mayor

The load is as heavy as hell

The old man is a goner for sure

It will kill you as well

The West End version used the original ensemble sequence instead:

(INDIVIDUAL)

Don’t go near him, Monsieur Mayor

There’s nothing at all you can do

(ENSEMBLE)

The old man is a goner for sure

Leave him alone

“Who Am I?” still used the original “This innocent who bears my face” instead of “who wears my face”. It also still featured Valjean’s “You know where to find me!” declaration officially written out of the libretto.

Prior to "Master of the House", a customer still declares "Hell, what a wine" instead of the revised "God, what a wine".

In the “Waltz of Treachery”, Thenardier still asks “Have we done for your child what is best?” instead of the official post-Broadway line which changes “your child” to “her child”. Additionally, Valjean still sings "a friendlier sky" instead of "some friendlier sky".

Then, at the end of the number, at least some performances use a slightly different line from the norm. Usually Little Cosette asks:

Will there be children

And castles to see?

However, this era of the West End production used a version later borrowed by the Official Symphonic Soundtrack as well as the 1992 UK tour:

Will there be castles

And children to see?

I can’t help but wonder what this edit was supposed to accomplish. Is it supposed to show that Cosette is optimistic and innocent enough to prioritize castles over making friends?

The opening of "Look Down" interestingly used a middle ground between Gavroche's original and rewritten lines. Originally he declares:

This is my school, my high society

From St. Denis to St Michel

We live on crumbs of humble piety

Tough on the teeth, but what the hell?

If you're poor, if you're free

Follow me, follow me!

Officially in the 1987 libretto, he instead proclaims:

This is my school, my high society

Here in the slums of St Michel

We live on crumbs of humble piety

Tough on the teeth, but what the hell?

Think you're poor? Think you're free?

Follow me, follow me!

However, the West End production at the time has him sing:

This is my school, my high society

Here in the slums of St Michel

We live on crumbs of humble piety

Tough on the teeth, but what the hell?

If you're poor, if you're free

Follow me, follow me!

The revised opener combined with the original closing part! A fascinating combination in my book.

As in the original version, the Beggar Woman cries "You give 'em all the pox" instead of just "Give 'em all the pox".

The 1987 libretto featured the following exchange as an ensemble piece:

When's it gonna end?

When're we gonna live?

Something's gotta happen now or

Something's gotta give

However, the West End production used the original solo lines:

When's it gonna end?

When're we gonna live?

Something's gotta happen, dearie

Something's gotta give

Fortunately, the generic students' lines have been replaced with Marius and Enjolras as usual. However, the beggars' lines in between their dialogue is in its original form. Instead of the revised lines:

(BEGGARS)

See our children fed

Help us in our shame

Something for a crust of bread in Holy Jesus' name

(SOLO BEGGAR)

In the Lord's holy name

(BEGGARS)

In His name, in His name, in His name

The original ones are used:

(BEGGARS)

Something for a meal

Something for a doss

Something in the name of Him who died upon the cross

On the cross, come across

On the cross, come across, come across

"The Robbery" has mostly been adapted into its revised Broadway form, with one small difference. Instead of the following revised part of Thenardier's dialogue:

Save a life, spare a sou

God rewards all the good that you do

He instead sings the following:

Save a life, spare a sou

God will see all the good that you do

This is presumably a relic of the number's pre-Broadway form, in which Thenardier's plea includes the line:

How d'you do? Spare a sou

God will see all the good that you do

I kind of like this unique variant actually. It strikes me as a little more authentic regarding what an actual religious person would say. My experience is that the omniscience of God seems to be a higher priority in most devout Christians' minds than the ways he will reward them. Of course, Thenardier is just putting on an act and he himself prioritizes nothing before reward, so perhaps the standard lines make more sense.

For some inexplicable reason, Javert's "Why on earth did he run?" later in "The Robbery" is instead sung as "Why the hell did he run?" This feels extremely out-of-character; Javert is usually not one to use Biblical terms casually.

"Stars" mostly takes on its usual post-Broadway form, with one difference. Instead of singing:

He knows his way in the dark

But mine is the way of the Lord

And those who follow the path of the righteous shall have their reward

He removes the final conjunction, making the lyric:

He knows his way in the dark

But mine is the way of the Lord

Those who follow the path of the righteous shall have their reward

Ironically, I find the original "but" a little awkward while thinking the "and" is better when present! Not a huge deal though.

Enjolras' name continues not to be stated during the instrumentals before "Red and Black".

During "Red and Black", Grantaire still sings "We talk of battles to be won" instead of the slightly revised "You talk of battles to be won".

"The Attack on Rue Plumet" uses the slightly different original "to watch a cat and his father" line instead of the official "to see a cat and his father".

Then, at the climax of the number, instead of the revised sequence of lines:

You wait my girl, you'll rue this night

I'll make you scream, you'll scream alright!

Leave her to me, don't wait around

Make for the sewers, go underground

The original sequence was used:

Make for the sewers, don't wait around

Leave her to me, go underground

You wait my girl, you'll rue this night

I'll make you scream, you'll scream alright!

During "One Day More", Javert sings the original "One day more to revolution" instead of "One more day to revolution" as is standard.

In the opener to Act Two, Grantaire sings the pre-Broadway "Some will bark, some will bite" from the pre-Broadway show instead of the revised "Dogs will bark, fleas will bite".

After "Little People", Grantaire similarly keeps his original "Better far to die a schoolboy than a p'liceman and a spy instead of the post-Broadway "What's the difference? Die a schoolboy, die a p'liceman, die a spy".

The Second Attack retains a lot of pre-Broadway lines. Instead of this post-Broadway opening:

(ENJOLRAS)

How do we stand? Feuilly make your report

(FEUILLY)

We've guns enough but ammunition short

(MARIUS)

I will go into the street

There are bodies all around

Ammunition to be had

Lots of bullets to be found

The original one is used:

(ENJOLRAS)

How do we stand? Feuilly make your report

(FEUILLY)

We've guns enough but bullets running short

(MARIUS)

Let me go into the street

There are bodies all around

Ammunition to be had

Lots of bullets to be found

Then, instead of this post-Broadway sequence:

(ENJOLRAS)

I can't let you go, it's too much of a chance

(MARIUS)

And the same is true for any man here

(VALJEAN)

Let me go, he's no more than a boy

I am old, I have nothing to fear

The pre-Broadway one is used:

(ENJOLRAS)

I can't let you go, it's too much of a chance

(MARIUS)

And the same can be said for any man here

(VALJEAN)

Let me go in his place, he's no more than a boy

I am old and alone and have nothing to fear

The remainder of the scene is performed in its usual post-Broadway form.

The "Final Battle" number uses the more hectic original pace as opposed to the less wordy post-Broadway lyrics. Instead of these current lyrics:

(ENJOLRAS)

Let us die facing our foes

Make them bleed while they can

(COMBEFERRE)

Make them pay through the nose

(COURFEYRAC)

Make them pay for every man

A slight variation on the original lyrics is used:

(ENJOLRAS)

Come on my friends, though we stand here alone

Let us go to our deaths with our face to the foes

(COMBEFERRE)

Let 'em pay for each death with a death of their own

(COURFEYRAC)

If they get me, by God, they will pay through the nose

Notice how the line now uses "the foes" instead of the original "our foes". Everything else is consistent with the original sequence, though.

"Dog Eats Dog" is mostly the same as its post-Broadway revision. However, Thenardier still sings "Here's a little toy" instead of the revised "Here's another toy".

Additionally, after the number Thenardier still doesn't shout Valjean's name.

From this point onwards, the musical takes its standard post-Broadway form.

Circa 1988-1989 variant

This version is almost identical to the last, with a couple exceptions. During "Who Am I?" Valjean now sings the official "wears my face" line as opposed to the original "bears my face" lyric.

The post-"Waltz of Treachery" scene is now performed in its standard "children and castles" format instead of the "castles and children" variant.

"Stars" now borrows a line from its Australian version. Instead of "And so it has been, and so it is written", Javert now sings "And so it must be, for so it is written". Interestingly, though, the rest of the number is the same as it was in the 1987-1988 version of the West End show.

In "One Day More", Javert finally sings the post-Broadway "One more day to revolution" instead of "One day more to revolution".

Thenardier now shouts Valjean's name following "Dog Eats Dog", as was already the case in other productions.

Circa 1989-1991 variant

This version of the show is mostly a mix of the 1987-1989 variants as well as the official post-Broadway libretto, with a few unique variations added in. The innkeeper scene retains its pre-Broadway form, and "At the End of the Day" retains its swapped-lines variants.

"The Runaway Cart" now uses its standard post-Broadway lyrics. However, the lines "The load is as heavy as hell" and "It will kill you as well" are performed as ensemble pieces instead of the scripted solo lines.

"Who Am I?" retains Valjean's "You know where to find me" line... usually. I also have one 1989 recording where Peter Karrie uses the Australian "You will find me at the hospital St. John" line... yet Karrie himself can also be heard stating the usual line in other performances. Very odd...

The "Hell, what a line" original lyric is still sing during the preamble to "Master of the House".

Thenardier still sings "your child" instead of "her child" during the "Waltz of Treachery".

Gavroche's opening to "Look Down", the Beggar Woman's "Give 'em all the pox", and the beggars' "See our children fed" lyrics have all finally been adapted into their official post-Broadway selves. However, the "When's it gonna end" sequence retains its pre-Broadway form.

"The Robbery" maintains the unique "God will see all the good that you do" variation. However, Javert's "Why the hell did he run?" has fortunately been reverted to "Why on earth did he run?"

"Stars" has now fully adapted into its Australian format. Instead of the original "Fallen from grace, fallen from grace" Javert now sings "Fallen from God, fallen from grace". The "but" has also been removed from "Mine is the way of the Lord".

"Red and Black" now uses the official "you talk of battles" line. However, Enjolras' name still isn't declared during its opening instrumentals.

"The Attack on Rue Plumet" retains all of its pre-Broadway variations.

In "One Day More", Javert now sings "I will join these little schoolboys" instead of "We'll be ready for these schoolboys".

The opening barricade scene in Act Two has now switched to the official post-Broadway "Dogs will bark, fleas will bite" lyrics.

Grantaire's post-"Little People" line now takes its post-Broadway "What's the difference?" format.

The "Second Attack", the "Final Battle", and "Dog Eats Dog" are all performed identically to the 1987-1989 West End versions.

Circa 1991-1992 variant

This is very close to the 1989-1991 version, with a few differences. The "Waltz of Treachery" finally has Thenardier say "her child" instead of "your child".

The "Final Battle" now uses the official post-Broadway lyrics.

"Dog Eats Dog" finally uses the official "Here's another toy" line instead of "Here's a little toy".

Moreover, the Epilogue now uses the Australian "I'll lead you to salvation" lines instead of the original (and still official at that point) "And lead me to salvation".

Circa 1992-1993 variant

This variant is similarly very close to the 1991-1992 one, with the following exceptions. "At the End of the Day" finally uses its official lyrics.

Valjean no longer declares "You know where to find me!" after "Who Am I?"

Then, "A Little Fall of Rain" takes a cue from the 1992 UK tour. It now opens with the same annoying interlude as opposed to the usual opening music.

Later, in another acknowledgement of the UK tour, after "Night of Anguish" instrumentals of "A Little Fall of Rain" as opposed to "Drink with Me" play.

Gavroche's death scene now uses the "ammunition short" and "I will go into the street" lines instead of the original ones. However, the rest of the number is still in its pre-Broadway state.

Circa 1993-1994 variant

This version borrows elements from the 1992 UK tour while still keeping a lot of features of previous West End versions.

The innkeeper scene still takes its pre-Broadway form.

"Fantine's Arrest" has put in Fantine's slightly awkward "I won't have you" line from the UK tour in place of her usual "No, not at all". Some performances also switch Bamatabois' original lyrics:

You've got some nerve, you little whore

You've got some gall!

It's the same with a tart as it is with a grocer

The customer sees what he gets in advance

It's not for the whore to say "yes sir" or "no sir"

It's not for the harlot to pick or to choose

Or to lead me a dance

Into his UK tour lines:

You've got some sauce, you ugly slut

You've got some gall!

What's become of the world when a whore from the gutter

Can suddenly get such ideas in her head?

Your job is to lie on your back for your betters

This hideous harlot believes she can choose

Who she takes to her bed

However, this didn't seem to be the standard at this point. Many performances still used the original lyrics.

"The Runaway Cart" has been entirely redone so that it takes its UK tour format. Instead of these original opening remarks:

Look at that

It's Monsieur Fauchelevent

Don't approach

Don't go near

At the risk of your life

He is caught by the wheel

Oh the pitiful man

Stay away

Turn away

There is nothing to do

The UK tour ones are used:

Look at that

Stay away

You'll be crushed by the cart

Don't approach

Don't go near

It'll fall on you too

Oh my god, who is that?

It's Monsieur Fauchelevent

He is caught by the wheel

Oh the pitiful man

There is nothing to do

As in the past in the West End, the solo lines in the "Don't go near him..." sequence become ensemble ones.

Finally, Fauchelevent's original "You come from God, you are a saint" takes its UK tour "You saved my life, you come from God" form.

"Look Down" still uses the pre-Broadway "When's it gonna end..." sequence.

In "The Robbery", Thenardier also still claims "God will see..." instead of "God rewards...".

As with past variations in the West End, "Stars" takes its Australian/UK tour form.

Interestingly, despite all the UK tour adaptations which were being added to the West End show, the opening sting prior to "Red and Black" is not heard (despite the fact that during this era, it was being added to more or less every other replica production worldwide!)

Additionally, Enjolras' name still doesn't appear during the number's opening instrumentals.

However, Enjolras' line:

To rally the people

To call them to arms

To bring them in line

Is replaced with the UK tour version:

To rally the people

To fire their blood

And the bring them in line

Also, the rewritten lyrics to "Lamarque is Dead" do appear.

The pre-Broadway lyrics in "The Attack on Rue Plumet" are still present.

Javert continues to sing "I will join these little schoolboys" in "One Day More".

As was the case in the last edit, "A Little Fall of Rain" and "Night of Anguish" use the musical variants introduced in the UK tour.

Gavroche's death scene is finally in its official post-Broadway form 100% of the way through. After this point in the show, everything is identical to the 1991-1993 show.

Circa 1994-1995 variant

This is almost identical to the 1993-1994 version of the show. The one difference I'm aware of: Thenardier finally sings "God rewards..." instead of "God will see..." in "The Robbery".

Circa 1995-1996 variant

A few differences are present here relative to the 1994-1995 version. First off, "Lovely Ladies" takes a cue from the UK tour. Instead of this group scene:

(SAILORS - simultaneously with prostitutes' lines)

Lovely lady, fastest on the street

Wasn't there three minutes

She was back up on her feet

Lovely lady, what you waiting for

Doesn't take a lot of savvy just to be a whore

Come on lady, what's a lady for?

(PROSTITUTES - simultaneously with sailors' lines)

Lovely ladies, lovely little girls

Lovely ladies, lovely little ladies

Lovely girlies, lovely little girls

We are lovely, lovely girls

Lovely ladies, what's a lady for?

There's this exchange between a prostitute and a pimp:

(PROSTITUTE)

God I'm weary, sick enough to drop

Belly burns like fire

Will the bleeding ever stop?

(PIMP)

Cheer up dearie, show a happy face

Plenty more like you here

If you can't keep up the pace

(PROSTITUTE)

Only joking, dearie knows her place

Note that this is NOT identical to the UK tour version. The prostitute sings "will the bleeding ever stop" instead of "never stop", and the pimp refers to "you here" instead of "you, dear".

"Fantine's Arrest" now has solidified the UK tour lyrics as the default ones; the original lyrics seem to no longer be used in the UK.

In the "Waltz of Treachery", Thenardier no longer just sings "Let's not haggle for darling Cosette". No he refers to "darling Colette", with Mme. Thenardier quickly saying (not singing) her actual name and Thenardier singing it in response. I'm not the biggest fan of this joke myself. It makes Thenardier look like nothing more than a big idiot, when I think there should be a degree of cunning to his character.

The student finally shouts Enjolras' name during the opening instrumentals to "Red and Black" now.

Fortunately, the little opening overture before “A Little Fall of Rain” has once again been removed. Everything else is the same as the last version (and yes, that includes the original pre-Broadway lines that haven't yet been converted to their rewritten forms!)

Circa 1997 variant

This version is almost identical to the last one. However, Javert is back to singing "We'll be ready for these schoolboys" instead of "I will join these little schoolboys" in "One Day More".

An interesting change also occurs during the "Final Battle". Though the lines are the same, Enjolras now sings the final word, "free", instead of shouting it.

And that just about sums this part up! If I missed anything feel free to let me know, as my goal is to create a changelog as thorough and complete as possible. I plan on making more parts in the near future covering all the changes that have been made in the show up until this day (discounting concerts). Any feedback and constructive criticism is very much appreciated.

As a side note, both for this project and my own enjoyment, I want as complete a collection of Les Miserables audios as possible. I already have most of what’s commonly circulated, but if you have any audios or videos you know are rare, I’d love it if you DMed me!

Until the turntable puts me at the forefront again, good-bye…

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