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askaceattorney · 4 years ago

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Dear Asexual-Deesasters,

Mod Edgeworth:

If you want to know the answer to that question, go to this link.

Dear Skibot99,

Co-Mod: I’m fairly certain it was The Mod, but I don’t know for sure.�� He actually had another one before it, made from an old Ace Attorney musical animation. I haven’t been able to locate that video, unfortunately, but here’s the old banner:

Ah... Those were good days. Good days.

Dear Dawsongfg,

Co-Mod: It’s fine. Besides, it won’t be too long before those letters are accepted, so maybe we’ll hold onto them until that time.

Dear skibot99 again,

Mod Edgeworth: The Lost Turnabout hands down. All logic is thrown out the window the moment Phoenix had amnesia. It’s clear the Judge knew something was wrong with Phoenix, so why didn’t he call for a recess or check on Phoenix? Not to mention Wellington was annoying. He’s probably the only character I would be hesitant to play as when answering letters, if only because he was so unbearable.

As for Turnabout Ablaze, I do agree that it is a drag to get through in the end, though the entire game of AAI was boring, aside from the game mechanics. As a case by itself, I wouldn’t put it as my least favorite, if only because I did get some funny parts out of it. It also contributed to the overall story, whereas The Lost Turnabout could just be taken out and it wouldn’t effect the overarching plot.

Co-Mod: I’d probably have to go with Turnabout Big Top. I honestly couldn’t figure out the part where you have to present Max’s poster without consulting a walkthrough. Why couldn’t we just present Max himself? Besides that, the ending was largely underwhelming -- the murder weapon was hidden under Acro’s blanket the entire time, but instead of seeing a screenshot of it there, we just have to imagine it. Maybe it was a filler case, but that was no excuse for it to end so poorly. Not to mention one of the witnesses was a literal puppet.

It’s hard truth, Trilo. Live with it.

Dear skibot99 and Anonymous,

Mod Edgeworth: I… think I heard from her when the localization of DGS was announced? I know Mod Kristoph and Mod Maya introduced themselves when I came into the group. There’s a third person, but I only heard from her once. As for what’s going on with her… I don’t know.

As for the flooding the inbox, it’s fine. I won’t promise a letter or two won’t be deleted, but we may make an exception and I’d hardly consider 4-5 different letters flooding the inbox. However, I do highly suggest lowering your letter sending to no more than three a day to prevent deletion of your letters. The only time I’d say your letters are flooding the inbox is when you’re sending 10-20 of them, especially of the same letter, and we have to scroll down for a while to get to the next letter. We will only choose three out of that pile and delete the rest.

And yes, we do have a few that send us 10-20 of the same letter to multiple characters in the span of five minutes. Geez.

Co-Mod: Mod Paups has had to remain absent for personal reasons, and sadly, has recently communicated to me that she wishes to leave the blog entirely. Thanks for all you’ve contributed to this blog, Mod Paups, and best of luck in whatever you do next!

(Referenced Letter)

Dear mungeondaster,

Mod Edgeworth: Since I answered this one, I shall answer your letter.

(^ Why do I always use this sprite? ^) Actually, the localization never specified if Manfred Von Karma was born in Germany or not. In fact, we never knew the German part until Justice For All when Franziska Von Karma was stated to have flown all the way from Germany. It never specifies any reason for this and fans were quick to jump to the conclusion that it means the Von Karma family were German, which… isn’t entirely true? Manfred Von Karma never said he lived in Germany and, for all we know, Franziska could’ve lived in Germany to study law or something.

Now, the OG does give us more specific detail on this, being why I answered this the way I did. In the OG, both Von Karma’s were born Japanese, but lived in America or at least have an estate there. It specified that they were originally born in Japan, which would be translated to LA, California in the localization. While using the OG canon isn’t normal here, I will use it, if the localization doesn’t specify things. In this case, it never specified if the Von Karma’s were born in Germany or if Manfred Von Karma lived in America. Since he had to wait out the Statue of Limitations for DL-6, we can assume he lived in LA for 15 years or more. That means he’s American.

I am still getting the hang of writing letters, but I try to stick to canon as much as possible. If you believe we’ve made an error in our letters, feel free to let us know, but also show proof, if we go against canon. We’ll be sure the letter is sent to the right mod or else fix it.

Dear Bluedragoncody,

Mod Edgeworth: I... don’t know how to feel about that.

Also, I accidentally deleted your previous letter before this one when trying to post it on here. I’m so sorry about that. If you could remember it, would you send it again?

Co-Mod: I’ll just respond to this with an old classic:

Dear Aceattorneyismyjam,

Mod Edgeworth: I-I’m not a pro! I accidentally deleted an important mod question from bluedragoncody, because of my inexperience. Oof! Again, so sorry!

Granted, I am good with digital art and writing essays, but I’m still trying to get the hang of being a mod here. Believe me, I do get corrected on several mistakes I do here. I can’t really call myself a pro just yet. I’ve only just started becoming a mod here last month lol

Dear Dahlia,

Mod Edgeworth: I thank you for your support of this blog and my essay. Manfred Von Karma is also my favorite villain and someone I do feel is underestimated as a one dimensional villain. I think people hate him so much, because of how he ruined Miles Edgeworth’s life without looking at the bigger picture. They focus on the bad things with their black colored glasses without dissecting Manfred Von Karma’s character as a whole.

One thing I love about this blog, even before becoming a mod, is that no one here ever portrayed Manfred Von Karma as the one dimensional villain. He can be snappy at times, but as proven in many of our previous letters, he’s also portrayed as being calm when threatened, polite at times and absolutely loves his wife and children. Yes, he’s a terrible person, but that’s what makes him so interesting. He’s a bad, evil person that does good things from time to time. It doesn’t justify any of his horrible deeds, murder included, but it does make him human.

Co-Mod: I’m...going to assume you’re a different Dahlia. (I’m grabbing a Magatama of Parting just in case, though. I’m sure you can understand.)

Anyway, thanks for being such a loyal follower! This blog’s been through a lot of changes since it began, and since I joined it back in 2017, so I’m glad it’s still a good source of enjoyment for you. I’ve seen all sorts of cringe by now, by the way (some of which I wrote myself), so don’t worry about it.

I’m also glad that the characters still sound like themselves and not like us. The hilarious personalities and quirks given to them by Capcom’s writers, as well as the humanity in so many of them, make them easy to relate to, and thus fairly easy to mimic. I may have said something like this before, but I see myself in a lot of them -- in Athena’s fear of inadequacy, in Apollo’s desire for justice in a world where it’s hard to find, in Sebastian’s confusion about where to go next after his world falls apart, and possibly even in the von Karmas’ desire for perfection. I of course identify with their positive feelings as well -- Phoenix’s smugness when he gets things right, Athena’s joy after pulling off a victory in court, Adrian’s pride after her self-confidence is restored, etc. -- but there’s something about the struggles they face that make them easier to relate to, on top of being that much more awesome in the end.

Unfortunately, I can’t promise anything about this blog continuing on in perpetuity. For one thing, I don’t plan on being around forever (I’m fairly certain the other Mods don’t, either), and for that matter, there’s also no telling how long Tumblr will be around. All I can promise is that I’ll give my best while I’m here, and that the love from you and everyone else who shares it here is sure to be what keeps us going. Thank you for your contribution!

Dear TurqouiseJavelin,

Mod Edgeworth: Hm... not bad ideas. Though, we mods choose our own mod names under the condition that it doesn’t match anyone else’s mod name.

Co-Mod: What Mod Edgeworth said. Choosing the name “Mod Athena” may or may not increase your chances of being hired, though. *wink, wink*

Dear Anonymous,

Mod Edgeworth: Actually, Gregory was stated in the Autopsy to have died by a gunshot. However, you do bring up something interesting. If Gregory Edgeworth realized he was dead and last remembered Robert Hammond strangling him, he wouldn’t think “I died by the shot of a gun.” Since the Detectives weren’t aware that victim had died unconscious, they’d assume the victim would recall being shot and killed. This makes me wonder if Gregory Edgeworth was channeled, but never brought to court to be cross-examined.

There are still holes, but I do like your aspect on DL-6.

Co-Mod: Dang... No matter how many times you come back to this game, there’s always something new to think about. I honestly hadn’t considered those details about Yanni Yogi’s trial. Your explanation makes the most sense to me, but there’s one other possibility regarding Gregory’s testimony -- he may have chosen to lie about who murdered him in order to protect his son from a murder charge. That’s all open to interpretation, of course, so your guess is as good as ours.

It’s a good thing we’re not actual defense attorneys, huh?

-The Mods

#asexual deesasters #skibot99 #dawsongfg #mungeondaster #bluedragoncody #aceattorneyismyjam #young and vain #Anonymous #Mod Post #Mod Edgeworth #Co Mod

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snugglebuddyhan · 3 years ago

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Saw someone say Owen Ovadoz makes them uncomfortable yet he’s amazing????? And I??

Owen not only defended his friend who was asking underage girls for nudes, but also told us to mind our own business when he was confronted. The guy is a fucking pedophile and predator and Owen immediately running to his defense instead of calling him out, reporting him or at least dropping him as a friend speaks volumes on the many reasons he doesn’t deserve anything good in life

He’s also a pedo himself. There’s screenshots of him being sexually inappropriate with a minor. The fan just wanted a reply from him and he said “only if you let me smash you from behind” and went on to tell them to be his slave despite the fan saying they were uncomfortable. Absolutely disgusting. He’s no better than his friend

He also said he hates white women and wants to rape them. He was without a doubt mobbed with angry fans the next day. He tried to justify his words by saying he was drunk, but nah, he said what he said and he meant what he meant. There's no getting away with that shit. He “apologized” but really just attacked us and told us once again to mind our own business. Told us to stop being “nosy motherfuckers” SIR?? You were live when you said it. How does that make US nosy??

He made a joke out of the BLM movement by calling it a challenge. The second people brought the movement to his attention he dug himself an even deeper grave. I wonder why people even bothered to ask him to speak about the movement considering the type of person he is. I mean, I get it. He’s a Korean rapper profiting off a culture that doesn’t belong to him, so him giving back or supporting the literal blueprint to his career would only make sense, but once again, this is Owen we’re talking about. Not gonna happen in a million years

He said “I won’t acknowledge the struggles of Black people. Like, why do I have to? I know what the campaign is. I don’t give a fuck man. I’m still making money” like???????? This the man that's so amazing to you?? Literal trash and for anybody that tries to assume I’m lying I got his ass screen recorded. I got my receipts. Don’t worry about that

I just really despise him and anyone who supports him. To see people call him amazing sets fire to my blood. How can he be amazing after all he’s said and done? What I listed is only HALF of the shit he’s gotten himself into. I would be here all day if I were to type up how horrible he is

The way people have their heads shoved up artists asses is another reason the locals don’t fuck with us. Fans will throw all morals out the window for people that don’t even know they exist. I love Kpop more than anything. Been a fan for 8 years, but I won’t hesitate to drop an idol in a second if they fuck up. Same goes for Khh artists. Ain’t gonna be no “but what if” or trying to find ways to justify their actions. It's always “they didn’t meant it” or “they didn’t know any better” and I have to laugh, because these people are not babies. They are grown ass men and women. If I know better then so should they. It’s basic human shit everyone knows not to say or do a majority of the time anyway. They just don’t care, bc they are famous enough to get away with it

I'm sick of them always being an exception when it comes time to face the consequences. Let an artist I like say something homophobic, racist or controversial in general and especially without acknowledging their fuck up or they apologize in a way that gaslights the ones affected (I also hate when they say “if I offended anyone” bitch the FUCK you did) then it's the plank, bc at the end of the day I don’t know none of these people

Anyway, fuck Owen

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kosakawalterwhite · 5 years ago

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On Komaeda’s Love Confession

The official translation for the final line of Komaeda’s free time events is as follows: “I love...the hope sleeping inside of you from the bottom of my heart.”

If you’ve been in the fandom for at least a week you’ve probably already seen the line being the most cited piece of evidence of Komaeda having a crush on Hinata. You may have also seen it being used as a counterpoint, because obv he just said he loves his hope, bruh. However, something that’s also often brought up is that this line is a mistranslation, and that in the original Japanese text, Komaeda was originally addressing Hinata as a person, but switched the direct object over to his hope at the last second. When the localization first came out this was actually a major complaint among Komahina shippers, as one can see if they look at the official video for Komaeda’s free time events on YouTube. This is backed up by fan translations of the line before the game was even released to international audiences, such as here and here.

Is this true? The fan translations are definitely more accurate than the NISA version, but does that mean they’re entirely correct in conveying the intent themselves?

My answer: ...Probably?

Now, this isn’t going to be questioning whether Komaeda is in love with Hinata outside of haha hope big sexy, because even without this line, there’s a ton of evidence to support that yes, it is more than that. I’d argue that one doesn’t even have to do the free time events to see this. What I am going to be talking about is the line itself, because let me tell you, it’s a fucking bitch.

I 100% agreed with the general consensus that this is undoubtedly an aborted love confession for about like, five years. However, one thing that has led to a little bit of doubt is that the line is rarely talked about among the Japanese fandom- in fact, just like the official translation, the “aborted” part is often skipped over when quoting it. I want to chalk it up to the change being incredibly subtle, which it is, but I’m not fully certain. Let’s break down the line itself:

Obviously, before beginning to explain this, I should clarify that unlike English, the basic sentence structure in Japanese goes Subject-Object-Verb, and nouns are usually marked with specific particles indicating their role.

In this case, the subject is Komaeda himself, and the object is something related to Hinata, referred to naturally as “you” (キミ) since he’s talking directly to him. キミの中に眠る希望 promptly translates to “the hope sleeping inside of you.”

Now, direct objects in Japanese are marked with the particle を, which are attached right after the noun. Looking at the screenshot above, you can see that it’s initially attached to just the plain “you,” but is then attached to a full on possessive phrase before he can get the verb in. Based on this, it seems like everything’s set: he was initially going to refer to Hinata, but likewise, switched it to his hope- something Komaeda has already expressed his love for in the past (though not Hinata’s specifically, just everyone in general), and in a non-romantic way too (no, komaeda was never romantically/sexually attracted to hope in SDR2. rather, he likes it in the “using religion as a coping mechanism” way. you can blame dr3 for the hopesexual interpretations).

However, that’s not the only way this line can be translated. In fact, it’s also common in Japanese for two direct objects to simply function as “and.” Komaeda isn’t exempt from this. Here’s an example:

(sorry for the youtube cutout)

“I said that I love you all who embody hope...and those wonderful talents, from the bottom of my heart.”

Again, it’s the same structure, both “you all who embody hope” and “those wonderful talents” are marked with を, and not only that, but there’s the presence of the ellipses after the former, just like in the free time event. It’s also worth mentioning that 心から愛してる (from the bottom of my heart) is used in this line as well, drawing another similarity. I don’t think these lines are meant to parallel each other at all, more like it’s just how Komaeda speaks, but it’s definitely worth noting.

If this is the way the original line was meant to be interpreted, then it would more or less be “I’m in love with you...and the hope sleeping inside of you...from the bottom of my heart.” This isn’t necessarily a new idea either. It’s how his confession in the manga (which in Japanese is the exact same line), is translated into English was well.

So, does this mean that Komaeda just loves him and his hope equally, as if the two are inherently connected? I personally don’t think so. After all, a commonly forgotten factoid is that in the very same event, Komaeda tells Hinata he never sensed a talent (ergo “hopeful”) aura from him in the first place (and he seems to be happy with this, too), so I’m rather inclined to pass it off as a generic Komaeda-ism rather than a serious mark on his character. That being said, there’s also still an “aborted” feel to it. The “hope sleeping inside of you” part sort of feels like something tacked on in order to lessen the impact of his own words, though I don’t know, I can’t say for sure. That’s just what I’m getting from Ogata’s delivery of the line, which is also open to subjective takes.

Nevertheless, this still leaves open holes. If Komaeda so blatantly said that he loved Hinata specifically, then why doesn’t this part of the line make it into his report card? It’s simply cited as ボクはキミの中に眠る希望を心から愛してると with no regard to the initial キミを, which indicates that Hinata didn’t even pick up on it in the first place (or maybe, he just doesn’t want to acknowledge it because it’d be too hard for him. still, as interesting as this view is, it’s not supported by anything in his internal monologue).

What translation appropriately conveys the meaning of the sentence structure? I can’t say for sure. Either way, it’s a really fickle line, and I don’t blame NISA for flubbing on it. I just wanted to share these thoughts to other Komahina shippers on tumblr because I find it really interesting.

Also, as a bonus: On the use of 愛してる (aishiteru)

Many people seem to have this idea that this word is like, the strongest expression of romantic love ever. And while that’s true, it’s not because it implies a “deeper” love, but because it’s extremely bold and cheesy. Most love confessions, especially in things like anime, use 好き (suki) or 大好き (daisuki) instead, and it doesn’t make them any less important or genuine. It’s just how normal people usually talk. Komaeda actually uses these two terms instead of aishiteru in his confession to Hinata in his Drama CD, just an fyi.

Also, the word isn’t necessarily romantic either. Like, when I was in Japan, my host mother just like casually said it to a friend as a goodbye as we were leaving her house. Likewise, Komaeda using it in this line isn’t what indicates that his feelings for Hinata are necessarily deeper or romantic than his “feelings” for everyone else, because if you’ve noticed before, he uses the same word to describe his love for hope, talent, and even Junko at the end of DR:AE. If anything, what it’s supposed to say about Komaeda is that he’s really embarrassing and overdramatic in expressing his emotions. It’s honestly just kind of dorky.

#nagito komaeda #komahina #sdr2 #danganronpa

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freudensteins-monster · 4 years ago

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Live From My Bedroom! It’s Darcy Lewis!

Based on a fic prompt I received forever ago and have been working on ever since.

Images used in the fake youtube screenshots were sourced almost entirely from Kat Dennings and RDJ's social media accounts.

Please note that this has been written in a very basic script/video transcript format. And has not been beta'd. Fingers crossed it's still easy to read. xoxox

Chapter One: Whatever Happened to Darcy Lewis?

[Title Card: A cheap animated explosion solely using colours from the Lisa Frank colour wheel with the text “LIVE FROM MY BEDROOM! IT’S DARCY LEWIS!” in the middle.]

[Video opens on a cheerful woman in her 30’s sitting in what looks like a teenager’s bedroom from the 90’s. The walls are covered in band/movie posters and the shelves are full of books, Barbies, and other toys from the era. The woman has long wavy brown hair and she is wearing a dark blue t-shirt with a Grumpy Bear symbol on it.]

Hello world! It’s Darcy Lewis here, cashing in on the childhood nostalgia train by launching my very own youtube channel. [winning smile] So… Whatever Happened to Darcy Lewis? This was a question posed to me by a random stranger after she had been staring at me for a solid five minutes as I stood in the tampon aisle of my local grocery store trying to make a decision.

[Cut scene]

[Text on screen: *Dramatic recreation]

[Darcy, dressed in basic t-shirt, staring at shelf of tampons]

[notices someone watching her]

[turns head]

Darcy dressed up like a yoga mom, caught staring: OMG. I am so sorry. It’s just that you look just like that kid from that tv show.

Darcy, dressed in a basic t-shirt, holding two boxes of tampons: [deadpan voice] I get that all the time.

Yoga Mom!Darcy: [deep in thought] Whatever happened to that girl anyway?

Darcy: [still holding up two boxes of tampons] I heard she moved to Florida to breed alligators.

Yoga Mom!Darcy: [shocked face] Really?!

Darcy: [still holding up two boxes of tampons] …No.

[End cut scene]

So, yeah, I am that kid from that tv show. In 1990, at the age of five, I was cast in the sitcom Live from Suburbia! If you don’t remember it you were probably watching Full House. That, or you’re just too young. It’ll be thirty years this month since Live from Suburbia! first aired, and come December I am going to be thirty-five years old.

[video goes black and white, zooms in on a distraught Darcy’s face]

[Psycho shower scene music plays]

[Darcy shakes herself out of it and video returns to normal]

So, yeah, I forgive you if you haven’t seen it.

[Text flashes on screen: HEY NETFLIX! PICK IT UP ALREADY!]

My parents have probably never even seen an episode they weren’t on set for either. They were never really keen on the idea of me becoming a child actor. They’re both college professors – they were prepared for, like, mathletes or debate club, not driving me to auditions and having me take classes with a tutor in a trailer parked outside a soundstage. [laughs] But I was super obsessed with Drew Barrymore in E.T. and when my mom explained that E.T. wasn’t real, and that Drew was an actress, I decided that was what I wanted to do. So when I heard people talking about auditions being held at a local shopping mall, and that they were looking for a “precocious” 5-6 year old girl, I kind of demanded that my parents let me go. That audition was for a cereal commercial – I didn’t get it, but the casting director liked me so when they were starting the casting process for Live from Suburbia! they asked me to audition for the role of Siouxsie.

[Text appears on screen: *NOT SUSIE. SIOUXSIE. LIKE SIOUXSIE AND THE BANSHEES. #endthedebate]

Live from Suburbia! was about a wannabe rock star from LA, played by a pre-famous, pre-infamous, Tony Stark, who had to put his dreams on hold and move to the suburbs when he becomes the sole guardian of his two kids; Siouxsie and Hendrix, played by a pre-teen Clint Barton. You might recognise him too; his most recent album just went platinum.

[images of Clint Barton rocking out on stages around the world flash on screen]

The show was axed in 1994 and I pretty much went back to the real world for a few years and went back to school full time. My parents were pretty insistent on that. Towards the end of middle school they let me get back in contact with my agent and I soon got a recurring role as mean girl Kaitlyn on the Disney Channel show Total Drama Teens. And later on when I was a senior in high school I played Void, the goth hacker-slash-tech support to a brooding vigilante in one of the last great straight-to-video action duds of the Blockbuster era.

[sudden dramatic close up]

But we don’t talk about that.

[zoom out]

After high school I went to Culver University and studied full time. My parents insisted I get a “real degree” so I ended up majoring in Political Science with a minor in Drama, instead of the other way around, and without the Political Science, like I wanted. After I graduated, despite my parents’ concerns, I moved to L.A. to try and become an actress full time. You might remember me from such unforgettable roles as the “kooky” comedic relief-slash-best friend in five different rom-coms from the mid-2000’s – four of which were called Jenny. I am not kidding.

[Images of her characters appear on screen: Jenny, Jenny, Jennie, Madison, and Jenny.]

I’ve also had bit parts on every Law & Order and CSI series there is, and had recurring roles as the “kooky” girlfriend in about three different sitcoms over the past five years.

[Darcy sighs]

[Text on screen: SIGHS IN TYPECAST]

Most recently I finished work on my first serious dramatic role in an indie movie called Bottled Lightning. It’s been entered in a few film festivals, I’ve gotten some good reviews for my performance, but as of last week it had still not secured a distribution deal. So, yeah… That one’s probably only going to be seen by a dozen film critics from three different film festivals and then sort of disappear into the unknown. [pouts] So here I am. Taking a break from the grind of auditioning. In my time capsule of a childhood bedroom. Housesitting for my parents while they’re drinking their way across Europe.

[Darcy sighs again]

[Text on screen: SIGHS IN UNREALISED POTENTIAL]

My parents suggested I just give up on the whole acting thing altogether, move closer to them, get a “real job”… So I created a youtube channel instead. [cheeky smile] I’ve got a few ideas for upcoming episodes. Next week I’m going to be doing a reaction video to the pilot episode of Live from Suburbia! It’s been a good twenty-five years since I’ve seen it, but I’ve got the entire series on VHS. …just got to figure out how to get that digital so I can insert it into one of these videos…

[pensive music]

[Text on screen: COME ON NETFLIX! HELP A GIRL OUT!]

And then maybe a reaction to the first episode of Full House, or a review of the best child actor performances... Maybe if these videos get some traction I might even be able to do some interviews with other child actors – what do you think? Let me know in the comments. And I’m sure you know the drill already: Like, Subscribe, and Share. Thanks for dropping by! I’ll see you next week!

[Darcy blows a kiss to camera, screen fades to black]

NEXT VIDEO: Live from Suburbia! Pilot Episode Reaction (feat. Fizzgig)

*** ** ***

Notes: NEXT VIDEO is not indicative of what the next chapter is about but done simply to imply that Darcy has a whole lot of other videos on her channel that I haven’t written. Also, I named her parent’s cat Fizzgig for the 80s/90s kid vibes.

Tagging everyone who commented on the original tumblr fic prompt in case you wanted to see the end result. @zephrbabe @evieplease @endlesscalendar @lynnestra44 @founderofshield @oldenoughtobeyourmama @typhoidmeri @phoenix-173 @suzieqsez @kiaraalexisklay @slytherinstarkravingmad

#live from my bedroom!#it's darcy lewis #darcy lewis #steve rogers #tony stark #darcy lewis x steve rogers #whatever happened to darcy lewis #child actors #child actor au #actor au #youtuber au #freudensteins-fics

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chiaki-translation · 5 years ago

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Spring Troupe 7th Play: Magician’s Pure Love Translation Ch1-2

What am I doing to myself? Out of a very weird reason I started translating this story. I will try my best to post translation everyday (at least 2 chapters a day) so I would be able to post everything before the actual event ends. I hope there’s someone else out there who actually want to read the whole story so here it is, the first part of the translation under the cut. Enjoy~ Some extra things I’m tempted to say. I really want to scout for Magician Chikage, but I’m saving so hard for Glitter Kazu and I shall not be tempted. I also won’t have a lot of screenshots for this series because I’m quite lazy since each chapter is quite long...

Ch1-2 / / Ch3-4 / / Ch5-6 / / Ch7-8 / / Ch9-10 / / Epilogue

Disclaimer:

A3! is owned by Liber Entertainment

Translator’s Note:

I actually haven’t read Act 3, so I’m not that familiar with Madoka and the 1st generations. If there’s anything wrong from this translation, please feel free to tell me so I can correct it for others. Thank you~

Magician’s Pure Love (Chapter 1-2)

Masumi:

So look over here, and… there it disappears.

Chikage:

Right, you’re good.

As expected, you really have a dexterous hand.

Masumi:

Everyone can do this much.

Chikage:

If you tell that to Chigasaki, he’ll get angry at you.

But you have quite a repertoire of magic tricks now, don’t you think it’s time to try putting on a formal show?

Masumi:

I’ll only put on a show for Director…

Chikage:

If it’s for that purpose, then you might need to polish the magic tricks even further…

Misdirection technique might be effective, it’s a necessary trick to get Director-san to enjoy it.

Masumi:

…

Chikage:

Memo?

You wrote on that memo sometimes, what have you actually been writing?

Masumi:

It’s a note on how to grab hold of Director’s love.

Chikage:

Vol.26 huh…

Masumi:

It’s the 26th one.

Chikage:

As usual, your dedication towards Director-san is amazing…

Masumi:

I’ll do anything to be able to become her ideal man.

Chikage:

Anything, huh… to have such a passionate love for something, I wonder what kind of feeling it would be.

Masumi:

You want to know?

Chikage:

I’ll refrain if we’re talking about love stories.

Masumi:

You won’t understand anyway, so I won’t start.

Chikage:

Haha. Even Masumi, are you going to treat me like a man with no romance?

Director:

Ah, the two of you, can I have a bit of your time?

Masumi:

Chikage:

Right when we’re talking about it, right.

Masumi:

What happened?

Director:

There’s something I need to talk to you about.

Tsuzuru:

What are we talking about?

Director:

I just had a talk with Sakyo-san and the manager…

There are a lot of attention on the troupe now because of GODza’s and 1st generation’s act-off, as well as the all-out performance on “Spotlight”.

Citron:

Oh, it’s crawling through the tension!

Masumi:

Boiling.

Itaru:

There’re really a lot of God-za’s fans and the 1st generation fans when you pay a closer attention.

Sakuya:

Even for “Spotlight” as the special feature, I was so nervous at first but I’m glad that it seemed popular out there!

Chikage:

It’s all thanks to Kasumi-san’s editing skill.

Director:

From then, I have received a lot of inquiries regarding our local performances… Then from this, I thought we should go for an attack instead.

In order to realize the value of Mankai entrusted by the 1st generation, we should aim to level up and improve the popularity of the theatre company while improving the performance level of each individual.

Tsuzuru-kun will also take steps to further improve on his ability to write for our performances…

Tsuzuru:

Yeah. In order to be able to match the stories that Hakkaku-san made, as expected I still need a lot more experience.

Director:

That’s why, while still working on our local performances, I would like to plan for new performances that would highlight the strength of each troupe.

It’s exactly because we received a lot of attention now, shouldn’t we use this chance to redefine the strength of each group?

Sakuya:

I want to do it!!

Citron:

I’m pretty sure there’re a lot of fans out there who’re still waiting for us!

Masumi:

I think it’s a good idea.

Itaru:

Why not?

It might be a good change to all the Mixed Plays we’ve been doing as well.

Chikage:

I agree as well.

We’ve only done one lap of ‘lead’ for Spring Troupe performances after all.

Tsuzuru:

You’re right.

Director:

Is there anyone here interested to take the ‘lead’ role this time?

Masumi:

I want to do it.

Director:

That’s fast.

Masumi:

I’ll do anything to rekindle your love.

Tsuzuru:

There’s nothing to rekindle over there.

Itaru:

So there’s a motive for some returns.

Chikage:

Your character’s too consistent.

Masumi:

Not only the Spring Troupe performances, I have taken many roles even in Mixed Play and act-off. The me right now would be able to shine brighter as a ‘lead’ compared to my time during Alice.

As the chairman, I think I would be able to put on a much better performance than that time, and I want to show it to you.

Director:

I see…

(Alice was only our second performance for the Spring Troupe and everyone had very little experience back then. Since then, everyone has accumulated a lot of experience.

The bond among the members has also deepened, we might be able to make a performance that portrays Masumi-kun much better now.)

Chikage:

I see.

Itaru:

As the chairman, huh.

Sakuya:

I think the Masumi-kun right now will be able to do it!

I’ll also support you!

Citron:

I also a breeze!

Tsuzuru:

Agree you mean.

Well, I think it’s good for Masumi to be the ‘lead’.

Director:

Alright, then, it’s decided that Masumi-kun will be the lead!

Masumi:

I’ll do my best.

Masumi:

…

(There’s no vacant seat around…)

Madoka:

You can sit over here.

Masumi:

… thank you.

You’re writing GODza’s script?

Madoka:

Yeah. Recently I’ve been visiting GODza’s training hall, I need to keep studying theatre after all.

Masumi:

Hee…

Madoka:

After our loss in the act off, GODza’s seats has been more motivated, of course Haruto-san and Shifuto included.

Everyone’s practicing with all they have.

Kamikizaka-san also changed towards a good direction.

How’s your side doing?

Masumi:

We decided that I’ll be the ‘lead’ for the upcoming Spring Troupe performance.

Madoka:

Really. Congrats.

Masumi:

I’m going to do my best for her sake.

Madoka:

Her?

Masumi:

It’s the director.

Madoka:

You’re going to do your best for the director’s sake?

Masumi:

I started acting for her sake.

All the good performances I’ve done so far was to kindle our love.

Madoka:

Ki, kindle your love…?

Fukunaga:

That’s wonderful!

So your passionate fire of love has polished your performances until now!

Madoka:

Fukunaga:

You should promptly get that Director-san to come to this year’s school festival’s performance!

Masumi:

I told you she won’t come.

Fukunaga:

Ikaruga-kun! For his sake and for his director’s sake, let’s write a good script!

Madoka:

I haven’t started writing anything.

Fukunaga:

Not yet!

Masumi:

Ha…

Fukunaga:

You started acting for that person, and now you’re aiming higher to become a better actor for her, such a melodramatic scenario!

Madoka:

Then, what if, you never met with Director-san, Masumi would you be doing acting at all.

Masumi:

There’s no such thing as a world where me and Director won’t meet, our meeting was fate after all.

When I manage to become her ideal actor, we would finally be connected as one…

Fukunaga:

Fyuuu.

Madoka:

You’re really a passionate one…

Fukunaga:

For you to be so head over heels over her, this director-san would be a very attractive person, isn’t it.

Masumi:

Of course. She loves curry, always working hard, pretty nice, likes curry, loves theatre, loves curry.

Madoka:

So she likes curry that much…

Fukunaga:

But for such a nice person, I would be worried if I was her boyfriend~

Masumi:

…We’re not going out yet.

Fukunaga:

Eh!?

Usui-kun that doesn’t sound like you, don’t say that she already has a boyfriend?

Masumi:

… Don’t have.

Fukunaga:

But, if you approach me so passionately, even I would relent sooner or later.

Masumi:

I don’t want to approach you.

Fukunaga:

It’s just an if!

That’s why I was thinking there might be someone else on her mind.

Masumi:

(Director has another guy on her mind…?)

(It can’t be… It’s impossible.)

Itaru:

Since Masumi-kun is the lead, I have an idea for a sequel.

We can make Alice in Wonderland II.

Sakuya:

We’ve never done a sequel before, so it sounds like a refreshing new idea!

Tsuzuru:

But the rabbit ears…

Citron:

Then how about puppy ears?

Summer Troupe already used cat ears, so we should try something different.

Itaru:

Is this a new animal series or something…

Tsuzuru:

I’m not going to make such series!?

Chikage:

Masumi’s good at sword fighting, why not we try a performance that can make use of his skill?

Director:

Spring Troupe doesn’t really have a performance with battles and stuffs, maybe we can make it work!

Masumi:

…

Tsuzuru:

Masumi? Something bothering you?

Masumi:

It’s nothing…

Director:

Itaru:

If you want to make use of something Masumi’s good at, the other choice would be…

Sakuya:

Ah! What about story about magicians!?

He learns a lot of magic tricks from Chikage-san after all.

Chikage:

I see.

We can showcase the result of your training.

Tsuzuru:

It sounds like it’s going to be a good theme, sounds like it can highlight the brightness of Spring Troupe too.

Citron:

We played some live performance during the Quartet performance, maybe we can do the same with magic this time.

Director:

Sounds fun, I’m looking forward to it!

Itaru:

If it’s magic, then the co-lead would be senpai?

Sakuya:

It’s the master-pupil combination!

Tsuzuru:

Sounds great, why not.

Citron:

I approve!

Chikage:

I don’t mind.

Masumi:

…

Director:

Masumi-kun will you be alright with this arrangement?

Masumi:

… Yeah.

Director:

(His answer’s a bit vague, I wonder if this is going to be alright…)

Tsuzuru:

Then I’ll start thinking of a plot.

Director:

Yeah, I’ll leave it to you.

Masumi:

…

Chikage:

Masumi, is this alright?

Masumi:

Chikage:

You were practicing to hold a magic show for Director-san, weren’t you.

If we’re doing it on the stage, your performance will not be exclusive to Director-san anymore.

Masumi:

Ah… It’s alright.

Even if other people see it, I would still be able to convey my desire to show it to Director, it’s no problem at all.

Chikage:

You’re so consistent.

Masumi:

Just consistent?

Chikage:

Ah… Well, if you’re satisfied then it’s fine.

Masumi:

…

Chikage:

(Since earlier, I’ve been feeling something weird…

Well, it’s Masumi after all, most probably it’s something about Director-san

Such a pure love is not my specialty…)

… the upcoming performance, I’m looking forward to work with you.

Masumi:

Yeah.

Itaru:

Woah, the rug’s expensive.

Chikage:

…

Itaru:

Ah, how’s Masumi?

Chikage:

Masumi?

Itaru:

I thought you went to talk to him?

Chikage:

So you saw.

Itaru:

I’m his dad after all.

Chikage:

And I’m the grandfather huh.

But he seemed to be fine for now, how to say…

Is it alright for me to give my grandson some pocket money.

Itaru:

I’m pretty sure it doesn’t work on that one grandson.

Maybe a bromide of Director-san will work instead.

Chikage:

You’re right. Well, since I’ll be co-starring, I shall communicate with him carefully.

Itaru:

Please do so.

Chikage:

By the way, how was he during the Alice performance?

You’re the co-lead right.

Itaru:

Ah…

We understood that we cannot understand each other.

Chikage:

What’s that.

But, I think I will be the same.

Itaru:

Nah, senpai’s pretty unexpected, I think you might actually understand each other normally.

I don’t have any basis for saying that, but if you find nothing in common with him, you won’t even teach him magic.

That dry part was somehow similar as well.

Chikage:

Starting from the basic.

Our age difference were quite big… how about that.

Above everything else, it doesn’t help that Masumi’s most prominent feature, being his passionate love, it’s not similar to me at all.

Itaru:

Well, around the time when Spring Troupe was formed, there was a time when Masumi lost his passion in love. That’s when everyone started sharing love stories to him.

Chikage:

Love stories… huh.

Itaru:

Why not senpai go ahead and present one to him as well.

Chikage:

Are you serious?

Itaru:

Well, I don’t expect any interesting story to come out from you though.

Chikage:

I don’t want to hear that from you.

Well, I was told straight to the face that he doesn’t want to share love stories with me.

Itaru:

Haha. So Masumi understands well.

<End of Chapter 2>f

#a3!#a3! act! addict! actors!#chikage utsuki #sakuya sakuma #spring troupe #a3! translation #chigasaki itaru #masumi usui #tsuzuru minagi #citron

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t4tlawlight · 5 years ago

Photo

Parentification of a child happens when the parent and child roles are reversed. This can take the form of instrumental parentification, where the child performs physical tasks that should be the parent’s responsibility. This can be things like paying bills, performing chores that are not age appropriate/undertaking all the chores in the household, or being the primary caregiver for younger siblings. These responsibilities mean there is no time to be a child or have any aspirations. Many children who are the victim of instrumental parentification are deprived of opportunities to have a better life, such as education.

-- “I Was a Parentified Daughter”

in the beginning, drama light is exactly the same as manga light. we see him as a young boy, brilliant, planning on becoming a member of the NPA just like his father.

[photo 1: a dimly lit screenshot of light yagami as a child talking into a yellow toy walkie-talkie. his dark hair is a bit past his ears. he is wearing a red, white and blue plaid shirt. light is saying, "I caught sight of the culprit!" photo 2: soichiro yagami is crouching on the stairs. the lighting is shining from behind him, and we can see his face through slots in the railing. he is also talking into a walkie-talkie, saying "Got it, Light. Storm the place."]

[photo 3: soichiro again talking into a walkie-talkie. he is no longer on the stairs, but it's difficult to tell where he is inside the house. he is wearing a green, yellow, and white striped polo(?) and saying, "You can't join the police if you're afraid." photo 4: light as a child still, brandishing a plastic black and orange toy pistol. he's saying, "Roger, I'm going in." into the walkie-talkie.]

-- Episode 1

the light we see in the series proper, however, is not the same as manga light. he’s gentle, and sensitive, and anxious. he suffers from panic attack after panic attack. there’s a misconception that he’s the “dumb” light, which frankly isn’t true.

the difference between them is the death of Light’s mother when he was young. his father was working on a case and refused to come to his ailing wife’s bedside, presumably assuming that she would be fine, so light and sayu were alone with sachiko as she passed.

Policeman: We got a call from the hospital. Your wife’s in critical condition. Soichiro: No, Otoharada takes priority. I’ll go to the hospital later.

[photo 1: a nearly empty hospital room. there are no decorations or well-wishing gifts or cards in the space, just a seemingly bare white cabinet against the wall, a matching nightstand beside the hospital bed, and a pale blue privacy screen off to the side. there is a body (sachiko yagami) under the white hospital sheets; her face is covered with a napkin. child light and his sister, still a toddler, are sitting beside her bed, distraught. soichiro yagami has just entered the room and is looking at the scene with his back facing the camera. photo 2: child light, wearing an unbuttoned black and white plaid short-sleeve flannel over a graphic tee. he is shouting at his father, saying, "I called and I called! Why didn't you come right away?"]

-- Episode 1

it clearly traumatized light, if not sayu. she later says that he and his father have been distant ever since then.

Sayu: He’s acting really weird. Soichiro: How so? Sayu: I mean, he never worries about you. It’s creepy. Soichiro: That’s not creepy. Sayu: Yeah, it is! You know he’s been cold to you ever since the thing with mom.

-- Episode 2

as a result of this, drama light grew up very different from manga light--manga light is likely upper middle class, given that he can afford to toss away expensive mini tv sets, whereas we can see the yagami family in the drama struggling financially. light gets on sayu about not using electricity to save money:

Light [about the television]: If you’re not gonna watch it, turn it off. You’re running up our electricity bill.

-- Episode 1

drama light simply does not get the same opportunities as manga light. he goes to a just-decent economics college instead of working towards the prestige of To-Oh simply because he cannot afford it.

Light’s boss: Yagami-kun, you want a public sector job? Light: Well, job security. There’s no risk of them running out of business. Light’s boss: Don’t you have any ambition? Like hitting it big and getting rich? Light: Once you get greedy, there’s no end.

-- Episode 1

but also because of the second change, which is that his father's emotional absence and distance when light needed him most (both as and after his mother’s death) resulted in light shunning his father's line of work entirely; while he still grows up with his father's morals and sense of justice, he has no desire anymore to act upon them.

[photo 1: light's bedroom, where there are so many decorations and personal items it makes the room look very busy. there's a large window along the wall behind soichiro and light. the lighting tints everything almost a blue color behind light, who is sitting at his desk, head turned a bit to soichiro. soichiro is in the doorway, staring at light's back. light is saying, "I'm hoping to get into the local ward office." photo 2: same setting, but now light is looking away from his father. he is saying, "Even if that's wrong, I don't plan to join the police."]

-- Episode 1

L: Does your son want to join the police? Soichiro: No. Light doesn’t have a good impression of my job.

-- Episode 2

Soichiro: When you were a child, you wanted to become a police officer, didn’t you? But when your mother died, you stopped saying you wanted to join the police. It was watching me that killed your desire to become a police officer, right?

-- Episode 6

furthermore, because he's blatantly depressed, he wants nothing more than to enter the public service and gain some sense of stability in his life

Light [internally]: You can invest your life in something and it might make you money, but it won’t necessarily make you happy.

Light [internally]: As long as I can feed myself and spend my days in peace and stability, that’s all I need.

-- Episode 1

most importantly, when sachiko died, soichiro refused any of the responsibilities of a mother. he was very emotionally closed off and distant, choosing instead to throw himself even farther into his job and leave his children alone in their grief.

Soichiro: You wanted me to realize you were suffering alone. That’s what you tried to tell me, wasn’t it? If I had noticed your cries for help earlier... Your lies... Your suffering... If only I had noticed then.

-- Episode 10

instead, light is the one forced to become the “mother” of the family, so to speak, taking on both the emotional responsibilities of managing both his and his sister’s grief and raising her, as well as the associated household tasks--feeding them, cooking for them, working to put food on the table, fretting about bills, and so on.

[photo 1: sayu yagami, now a teenager presumably in high school. her hair is just past her shoulders. she is wearing a pastel purple top and cropped light blue skinny jeans. she sits on the living room couch with her knees to her chest, smart phone dangling in her hands as she turns her head, calling to light: "Hey, I'm hungry." photo 2: light's bedroom. light is jumping up from his desk in surprise, turning to face sayu, who has entered his bedroom without warning. she is wearing her school uniform. she's asking, "Hey, where's breakfast?"]

-- Episode 1

he's very maternal having to practically raise sayu from a very young age and it results in a very caring, gentle man. on top of his depression, disillusionment with soichiro’s job, and lower social class, he never has the opportunity to be a genius like manga light because he’s busy taking care of his family--he’s more occupied with seeking stability than getting ahead and playing a genius, even if he’s smart enough that he could have, in another life.

Kamoda: You’ve always beaten me on grades. You could aim a bit higher if you worked at it. Light: No thanks. No thanks.

-- Episode 1

to be clear, all of these are huge red flags for drama light suffering from parentification--specifically, instrumental parentification. i’m sure you all read the introductory quote, but here is some information on the phenomenon:

Parentification is the process of role reversal whereby a child is obliged to act as parent to their own parent or sibling. Instrumental parentification involves the child completing physical tasks for the family, such as looking after a sick relative, paying bills, or providing assistance to younger siblings that would normally be provided by a parent.

The almost inevitable byproduct of parentification is losing one's own childhood. In destructive parentification, the child in question takes on excessive responsibility in the family, without their caretaking being acknowledged and supported by others: by adopting the role of parental care-giver, the child loses their real place in the family unit and is left lonely and unsure. In extreme instances, there may be what has been called a kind of disembodiment, a narcissistic wound that threatens one's basic self-identity.

All results of parentification are negative. There are no positive byproducts; the 'maturity' and 'emotional resilience' are directly linked to their underlying anxiety and displacement in the family dynamic.

we see light acting as a parent to sayu--cooking, cleaning, working, practically raising sayu on his own while soichiro is practically out of the picture. he receives no praise for this from either his sister or his father, who take it for granted or complain to him when he doesn’t. and as many children who are forced to do so, light is left depressed, devoid of aspirations, and displaced.

the name of this meta and the graphic used to represent it is maslow’s hierarchy of needs. if you’re unfamiliar, there’s a good explanation of it at verywellmind (which i cannot link), and i bring it up because drama light and manga light fall into very different categories. manga light has made it all the way through esteem, and is currently working on his self-actualization throughout the story of Death Note:

"It may be loosely described as the full use and exploitation of talents, capabilities, potentialities, etc. Such people seem to be fulfilling themselves and to be doing the best that they are capable of doing... They are people who have developed or are developing to the full stature of which they capable."

Self-actualizing people are self-aware, concerned with personal growth, less concerned with the opinions of others, and interested in fulfilling their potential.

drama light, on the other hand, has barely even broached his social needs. his place on the pyramid is “love and belonging”--he has love, from his friend kamoda, and from sayu, even if she doesn’t appreciate him--but his relationship with his father is strained and his mother is gone, and his parentification has left him feeling out of place.

it’s these relationships, though, that are the core of why he begins using the death note to begin with.

immediately before light gets the note, he’s working and talking with his wealthier friend kamoda, who was targeted throughout their lives by a delinquent named sakota who extorted money from kamoda through physical violence. we’re shown a younger light in high school watching this violence, incapable of helping his friend. sakota is released from prison in the first episode and immediately finds light and kamoda again, extorting money from kamoda at knifepoint.

kamoda responds like this:

[photo 1: light, as an adult, standing outside. it's night, the lighting is dim. he is scowling at sakota, who is out of view. light's internal thoughts are split between these two images. the first reads "I wish guys like him--" and the second reads, "--would just go away forever."

photo 2: light's close friend kamoda, curling in on himself in fear. his fingers are laced together and he's holding his arms to his chest, cowering. he looks afraid. he is wearing a long sleeve blue shirt and an orange backpack.]

-- Episode 1

it’s moments after this, when light is walking home, that he finds the note. he writes sakota’s name not because he’s bored, like his manga counterpart; he does it because he internalizes kamoda’s words and because both he and his best friend were threatened at knifepoint by him. even then, drama light has second thoughts, attempting to erase and then scratch out the name.

when it works, light is utterly horrified, overhearing about sakota’s heart attack while eavesdropping on his wake. he nearly has a panic attack until, once again, he hears how people respond:

[ photo 1: a public setting, in front of a funeral home. sakota's funeral has just finished. it is still daylight out. two young men in black suits have come out from the funeral home and are walking down the sidewalk. one of them asks, "Sakota did nothing but make trouble for people when he was alive, right?" light is hiding behind shrubs and a tree on the other side of the sidewalk, crouching and covering his mouth. photo 2: a close up screenshot of a hand holding a smart phone. it appears to be viewing a group chat of some kind, and multiple people are messaging it and talking about sakota's death in japanese. there are several messages that contain "WWWW" which is the japanese equivalent for "lol". one of the young men from the previous picture is saying, "Deep down, they're all relieved he's dead."]

-- Episode 1

at this point, though, light is still horrified. he wants to believe it’s fake, so he throws the note in the trash and attempts to dump it. unlike manga light, who feels the need to test it and dismiss any lingering doubts that he may have unintentionally murdered a man, drama light would rather put it out of his mind entirely.

obviously, sakota is very different from manga light’s first murder, and that’s because in the tv drama the first two murders are switched. sakota, who has a heart attack on his motorcycle, is intended to be the man manga light killed at the convenience store for sexually harassing a woman. the second murder in the tv drama is otoharada kuro, the man holding an elementary school hostage, and in this adaptation he also has a personal connection to the family: the case that soichiro was on when sachiko died was otoharada’s original arrest.

in the tv drama, otoharada takes an elementary schooler and her mother hostage in order to exchange her for soichiro himself, who he blames for his original arrest. light hears about this from matsuda, and for the third time, his sister responds like this:

[photo: a large room with several wide windows streaming light into it through white blinds. there are three rows of long desks, two chairs at each, similar to a classroom. police officers and detectives are buzzing around; some are going through files and paperwork frantically. sayu and light are in the far back on a bench against the wall. light is sitting, hands folded in his lap, as he watches his sister. sayu is standing, wearing her school uniform of a blouse, tie, and plaid skirt. she is shouting, "Just kill that scum and save my dad already!"]

-- Episode 1

light returns home and uses the note for the second time in order to save his father, who light still respects and craves the approval and emotional support of even despite their distance.

at the point of his second murder, manga light has a breakdown before almost immediately compartmentalizes his guilt and doubling down on the idea that he can do no wrong because he's been told he can't his entire life. for the first week until ryuk arrives he begins killing people in earnest, whereas drama light is deeply and profoundly horrified.

[ photo 1: a mid-chest and upwards shot of light. he is in his bedroom, looking down at the floor. he is wearing an open plaid shirt over a tee shirt. the subtitles for his internal thoughts say, "I would have been happy...just letting the days pass by uneventfully..." photo 2: a close up shot of light's face. he is wide-eyed, dragging his left hand down his cheek and staring at his right. in horror, he is saying, "I killed them."]

-- Episode 1

he ultimately ends up fleeing to a rooftop in the city and attempting to throw himself off of it before being talked out of it by ryuk. ryuk tells him that he can take the note back and erase light’s memories of it--which light nearly accepts--before mentioning that if light didn't want it, he'd give it to someone else, potentially a criminal who could do terrible things with it.

Ryuk: What if a real bastard like those guys you killed, Otoharada or Sakota, picked up that notebook? Light: No! Ryuk: The person who picks up the Death Note gets to decide how they use it.

-- Episode 1

so light takes the note.

what happens after this has been summed up by tumblr user whoresband in their post about drama light (which i can’t link due to tumblr not letting this post appear in the search but i’ll link the relevant portions and you can look it up):

when he gets the death note, he gains a power that was unavailable to him as a child. it was initially his sense of responsibility to his family and his caring nature that drove him to use it, but it was that promise of power that made him keep using it. as the series progresses, light begins to change. he tells sayu to cook for herself, to wash her own clothes. he demands a seat with his father, and sayu pours him a beer just like she did for their father. he stops being kind to misa and begins to use her as a tool for his plans. he manipulates women in his path, consistently viewing them as tools and neglecting their humanity. the death note has given him access to manhood and the freedom that it provides that he was denied by taking on the role of his mother. the death note teaches him that masculinity holds power, and he gladly takes hold of it.

i��m not going to reinvent the wheel and just restate what this person has said, because it’s spot on, but i will provide examples--

he tells sayu to cook for herself...

[photo: light is in the yagami household, but it's difficult to say which room. the lighting is dim and it's difficult to see much of his outfit or eyes. he is saying to sayu, "Cook for yourself for once. I'm tired."]

-- Episode 1

[photo: light, sayu, and soichiro are all in their dining room. it is very busy-looking; it's full of furniture which is lined with knick knacks and thriving green potted plants. soichiro is wearing his work clothes, including a white dress shirt, and he's sitting at the table watching his children. sayu is standing between soichiro and light, with her hands on the chair next to the table. we cannot see her face, as it is turned to light, who is in the doorway. he is wearing a sort sleeved button up, unbuttoned, with a tee shirt and jeans. we can see the strap of a shoulder bag across his chest. light is saying to sayu, "Cook for yourself, for once."]

-- Episode 2

..to wash her own clothes.

[photo 1: light and ryuk in light's bedroom, both facing sayu, who is offscreen. light is sitting at his desk, looking anxious. the shinigami ryuk is looking over him, wearing a sinister grin and wearing all black. light is saying to sayu, "Then... wash it yourself."]

-- Episode 1

...he demands a seat with his father...

[ photo: a blurry screenshot of light from the shoulders up. he is saying, "Maybe I'll have a drink."]

-- Episode 2

...and sayu pours him a beer just like she did for their father.

[photo 1: a shot of soichiro from the mid-chest up. he is wearing his white work shirt and rectangular, black glasses. he looks surprised, mouth slightly agape. he is looking at light and sayu, offscreen. light is saying, "Sayu, can I have a cup?" photo 2: the yagami family in their dining room. soichiro is sitting at the table on the viewer's right in his work shirt. one of his hands is reaching for a beer, and his other arm is resting on the chair beside him. light sits across from him on the viewer's left. sayu stands between them. she is saying, "That's unusual. Here."]

-- Episode 2

he stops being kind to misa and begins to use her as a tool for his plans

[photo: a closeup of light's face. he looks very serious, speaking to misa. we can only see the back of her head. light is telling her, "If I think you might tell them about me, I'm writing your name in my Death Note."]

-- Episode 4

he manipulates women in his path, consistently viewing them as tools and neglecting their humanity.

photo 1: a very close screenshot of Light's handwriting in the death note. in english, he's written, "Halle Lidner". below her name is some japanese handwriting. Light reads, “After coming to an underground parking lot in Yaehashi and giving the Death Note to a man waiting there,”]

-- Episode 10

but this isn’t the only option light yagami is offered. you may have noticed i went this entire post without mentioning the other major player in the tv drama: L.

a large part of what drives light to ambition isn’t just receiving the note and gaining power, especially when his memories are gone and he lacks that foundation; it’s his rivalry--and then, briefly, friendship--with L. L drives him to do better, both when he’s on the opposite team and when they’re on the same one.

unfortunately, this post is getting long and in order to do the next part justice, i need to flesh out drama L and his motivations a bit more, so i’ll be posting him as a standalone post in the coming days. it’ll cover his character development in the tv drama and how he affects light in turn up until the end.

if you liked this analysis i highly recommend checking it out HERE! thanks for reading!

#death note #death note drama #light yagami #soichiro yagami #death note analysis

172 notes · View notes

thenightgazer · 5 years ago

Text

The Finding of Almagest

The elder son of Sparda wants to seek solitude inside a small local library. He finds himself trapped in an insightful conversation with the librarian as they share the stories of the stars.

(A/N) : My first DMC fanfiction! Took me long enough to finally made it. English isn’t my native language, so feel free to send me private message if you find grammatical errors! Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy the journey of our favourite brooding devil and his friendship with a local librarian! xD

Special tags : @queenmuzz for encouraging me to finish this fic❤ @voldemortimaginarynose96 for her nonstop support 🍫 and @drusoona for bombing me with Vergil screenshots! 💜

You can read this fic on my AO3

–

“The meeting of two personalties is like the contact of two chemical substances, if there is any reaction, both are transformed.”

-Carl Gustav Jung

For a second in eternity, Vergil could finally rest his head between the familiar smell of stack of old books.

He just finished his latest mission; a pack of Empusas attacked a local church and brutally murdered the reverend and most of the nuns.

When Dante received the call, he casually laughed and said, ‘That sounds like a wicked slasher horror movie!’. Nonetheless, the owner of Devil May Cry still sent Vergil to do the mundane mission, much to his annoyance. The church paid him and that’s good enough. Vergil never really agreed about demon hunting business since the brothers came back from Underworld, mainly because his brother’s incapability of running the business neatly but that’s the only best thing they could do to make a living— a normal one.

Normal life, huh?

The words already lost its meaning since he was attacked in the graveyard when he was eight years old.

But now he has a second chance— a family to reunite. For that reason, Vergil decided to throw away his pride and stubbornness to make things right. In order to do that, first, no more raising or opening something leading to Hell for the sake of power.

Second, catching up his long-lost time to bond with his son, Nero.

For the love of Sparda, the hybrid demon tries his best to be a proper, competent father of a twenty-something grown man with anger and abandonment issues, which is challenging as much as it’s…. unbelievably exhausting. Not that he hated their bonding moments. It just sometimes confuses Vergil, this humanity contexts. He still has a lot to learn and catch up.

Third, try his best to make a normal life.

Which is one of the reasons why he ended up in this small, rustic local library in the town.

If anything about living as a human that could make Vergil at least enjoy his humanity, that would be a book to read. He is still and always an avid reader, even though there are not much books in the Underworld or Mundus curse was powerful enough to made him senseless about anything but The Prince of Darkness orders.

Before the memories of his time as Nelo Angelo stings his head again, he chooses to focus on his reading.

There is one larger library in the town, but this library suits him best. It doesn’t have too many visitors, much to Vergil’s benefit because he appreciates seclusion. He likes this place particularly because the library has rare collections. Perhaps this place is like a heaven on Earth for Vergil, now as he reads a rare edition of Paradise Lost.

His mother was the one who introduced him to literature, but Vergil’s love for reading bloomed since he meet the Redgrave City librarian— the same man who gave him William Blake’s anthology, which is now Nero’s possession.

A subtle smirk curves in Vergil lips, remembering how angry and nervous his son when Vergil came back from Hell and Nero wanted to return the book. But Vergil declined, said that it belongs to Nero now and to take care of it with honour. Instead of thanking his father, the boy challenged him for another duel.

You said you won’t lose next time, old man, Nero had said to him.

And of course, that time, Vergil won. Which lead to another demand of challenges from his wayward son.

“Cuppa?”

The sound of a woman distracted Vergil.

Another best feature from this library; they serve free-refill coffee. The best coffee Vergil ever tasted since his return from Hell. The fact that the library doesn’t often have visitors might be the reason why they willingly serve free drinks to attract more visitors.

“Thank you,” Vergil said as the woman refills Vergil’s cup.

“You’re welcome,” the woman replies in polite smile.

She always has that kind of smile. Vergil noticed it since his first visit. Always speaks in a-matter-of-fact tone with pleasant but business-only smile. She almost never speak unless necessary.

Dante had brought him fake ID and licenses from Morrison. Vergil isn’t obnoxious enough to not aware about human ways of bureucracy. His time as V taught him a little too much about it. It just hard for him to believe that Dante made him an obviously fake driving license while he possessed the Yamato, which is more convenient than any vehicles.

“At least,” Dante mocked. “It’s way better than your previous not-so-clever alias.”

Which resulted in another jabbing and broken properties.

What a way to show brotherly love.

Luckily, the younger twin was considerate enough to keep Vergil’s original name at those ID cards, even though it irritates Vergil because the main trouble of having an ID is that your identity would easily revealed. Vergil doesn’t need anyone knows that he’s son of Sparda. That legacy always left him more troubles.

So when the librarian lady asked his name to register his library member three months ago, Vergil, much to his dismay, showed her his fake citizen ID.

“Vergil?” she repeated his name.

“Correct.”

She looked at him suspiciously, “Just Vergil?”

“Yes.” He sensed that the librarian didn’t believe him. He would’ve just go and never return if she declined him, but she just shrugged and wrote his name in her notebook.

“Please wait for a moment,” she smiled while walking to back office.

Three minutes later she brought him his library ID card.

“Two weeks for returning the books. No more than three books to borrow for a week. Rare collections are for read here only. We sell secondhand books too— right there before the reading corners,” she pointed to the bookshelves which has ‘FOR SALE’ sign. “Please contact me if you need some help for searching books or recommendation.”

She handed him his ID card which Vergil accepted.

“Happy reading, Mr Publius Vergilius Maro.”

Not that old joke again, he lamented his parent’s choice of name. How dare this woman-!

“Pardon my rudeness,” she apologized in furtive manner. “The name was just the first thing popped into my head when I heard your name. I mean no offense at all, sir.”

Vergil thought probably she was just one of those people who wants to make some meaningless conversation. Or she was just always like that to new customer to break the ice. But in truth, he was intrigued by her audacity to tell him a joke. He, Vergil, whose entire demeanour screams stay back or die. Moreover, she still able to stayed calm and gave him apologizing smile. But her nervous fingers spoke different meaning, like it begged him to end her misery of being intimidated by his infamous deadly glare.

“None had taken,” he finally said, remembered to show some politeness. A devil he might be, but he’s a man with courtesy. “Thank you for your assistance, Librarian.”

She nodded politely and gave him final apologizing smile before she returned to her work and Vergil walked to his reading corner.

The two has never really spoken since then. Just her offer of a cup of coffee and him thanking her. He sometimes observes her talking with another customers, giving some book recommendations to them, and he think her choices of book are quite impressive. It took him almost three months to realized that this woman is unbelievably brilliant. Her love of books is tangible, as shown when she cleans the bookshelves, organizing books, the way she hands a book to a customer and her anger when her co-worker unintentionally scratched the book.

Somehow it reminded him with the Redgrave librarian. The man who taught him to cherish the splendor of the books.

He turns his attention to a passage from Paradise Lost :

The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven…

Such a truth spoken by Satan.

The deeper Vergil digs inside his head, the more he doesn’t want to know what happened in the depth of his memories. His familiars might had gone, but it doesn’t mean he is unbothered with his own dark side of his mind. Ever since his first slumber in Devil May Cry after his arrival from the Underworld, he only slept for no more than a half an hour. His sleep was dreamless, followed with the instinct to stay awake like he used to be in the Underworld. He ended up restless for the rest of the night. Sometimes he would read Dante’s little collection of books, anything which doesn’t include inappropriate contents. He just want to distract his unsettling memories, mostly about his regrets and unanswered questions from the past.

He didn’t know where was that librarian after demons attacked Sparda Manor. Had he survived? He wouldn’t know for sure. He didn’t have time to think about it that time. He needed to save his mother and brother, but instead he was left—

Stop, he urges himself. Mother tried to save me too.

Vergil doesn’t even realized he gripped his book a bit too hard.

Maybe I need something lighter to read.

He close the book and stand up to return the book to its shelf. He never moved too far from his favourite reading corner for an introverted man like him; the farthest corner between rare collection bookshelves. Here he could read in peace, musing without any interferences except the librarian’s offer of coffee, which he eventually get used to.

“Hello again, Mr Vergil,”

There she is, standing on the ladder and organizing books. She barely sees Vergil’s figure, but it’s easy for her to recognize the presence of the only rare collection’s visitor, who is none other than Vergil himself. She knows other visitors would leave this corner immediately because of Vergil’s intimidating demeanor. None of them would stay to read or just searching for book.

Vergil returns the book to its place. His icy eyes sneakily lingers to the figure of the librarian. She looks busy storing the books, humming a song which Vergil doesn’t recognize.

“Done with Milton already?” she asks.

How did she know?

“You looked rather enjoy it before I offered you to refill your cup,” she continues. “It makes me feel guilty, as if my presence ruined your mood.”

“It has nothing to do with you,” Vergil turns his sight to another row of bookshelf. And more importantly, why doesn’t she just shut her mouth?

She finishes her organizing and starts to climb down from the stair. Vergil could not help but admiring the way she seems pleased with her job. She cleans her hand with a napkin, folding it and put it back inside the pocket of her brown midi skirt. She suddenly turns her attention to Vergil, who is quickly pulling away his gaze, pretending to be busy searching for book.

“May I give you some recommendations?” she offers with careful and awkward gesture, like she’s afraid she would disturb the menacing man in front of her.

Despite his annoyance of her presence, he remembers her passion of books. He noted her excellent choices of book. She seems reliable enough. Maybe she really could help.

“At the current given moment, I prefer to read something lighter, but enough to give me an insight.” Vergil answers dismissively. “Not necessarily fiction, actually.”

A little challenge to show your competency.

The librarian goes silent for a moment. Her eyes wander to the bookshelves. There, Vergil silently notice, that the librarian always has that kind of eyes; a pair of beautiful brown eyes, but a blank, void stare.

The truth? Her eyes slightly bothers him. Every humans, even demons, always has something to tell from their eyes. But the ones that librarian possess doesn’t tell him even a thing.

“Right!” she exclaims, pointing at a book in the row next to Vergil. “How much do you know about astronomy?”

“Beg your pardon?” The hybrid couldn’t believe what he just heard as he turns around to face the librarian.

“Astronomy. A branch of science that studies celestial—“

“I am fully aware of what astronomy is,” Vergil declares. “All of those books, why do you choose astronomy?”

“Because,” she takes the book she pointed before. “You seem to enjoy ancient texts. Your top borrowed books were all classics. You see, we don’t have many visitors and it’s noticeable that you’re the only person who consistently lingers at this section. It’s not hard to tell that you fancy this section the most. I thought classics and ancient knowledges would suit you the best. Therefore…” she shows him the book she recommended. “You might like Almagest.”

Almagest. Vergil remembers the copy of that book in Sparda’s private room in the Manor. He didn’t really paid attention to that book, although he did actually pick up that book and observe it delinquently rather than taking it seriously. He was still a child after all. He didn’t even think about reading it until now.

He receives the hardcover book from the librarian’s hands and observes the book. His fingers flip the pages carefully.

“Almagest is one of the most influential text all the time. The very source of ancient Greek astronomy that was accepted for more than 1000 years and becomes one of the basis of modern astronomy. Unfortunately, we don’t have the original version of Almagest… but the one you read now contains both the original and translated texts. You won’t find any difficulty to read it, just in case you’re not familiar with ancient Greek. The book also contains star catalog. Ptolemy’s catalog contains about 1022 stars, including the stars positions arranged into 48 constellations. The Ptolemaic constellation… as we know it in the present. Andromeda, Ursa Major, Sagittarius…” the librarian explains while observing Vergil’s behaviour cautiously, looking for some approving signal from the hybrid. “A rather quite insightful reading, don’t you think?”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Vergil sternly states. His eyes still fixates to the book, studying the graphs and tables, admiring the beauty of ancient Greek text and the planetary model. “Although, indeed, quite like a page-turner for stargazer.“

“I believe that astronomy is more than mere stargazing,” the librarian continues. Her tone is almost enthusiastic. “It is concerned with the formation and development of the universe itself. The universe always expanding, getting further from us while we are still standing here, wondering what happened outside the Earth…”

Vergil glances at her. The librarian’s eyes scanning through the books, but she seems out of the place. Caught in her own muse. The fusion of the magnificence of bookshelves and the librarian’s state of wonder somehow makes her look ethereal.

She looked pale, mysterious—like a lily, drowned, under water.

“There is Demon World,” Vergil sighs, closing the book in satisfied gesture. “The one human still trying to figure out in which system this world could be.”

“Oh, I wonder that too!” she quickly agrees. “They published a lot of researches about that. None of them actually make sense, more like a pseudo-science—Oh, pardon my twaddles! Are you going to borrow that book or should I recommend another one?”

Vergil shake his head, “This will do. Thank you for your recommendation.”

The librarian sighs in relief, “Anytime, Mr Vergil. I shall continue my work then.”

There it is again. The blank stare. The unsettling mix of pretty smile and void eyes. Something is off, but what? What does it means? She is nothing but a mere human. Why am I troubled for something nonsensical like the voidness of her eyes?

Yet he knows that if she turns her back and leaving him, he would never get his answer.

“On second thought, Librarian.”

The librarian tilts her head, “You changed your mind already?”

“On the contrary. I need some enlightment about Almagest and your knowledges regarding astronomy,” Such a buffoon, Vergil Sparda. “I believe your help will suffice.”

The librarian seems pleased with Vergil’s request. She nods in excitement, happy that someone needs her help and ideas, “Certainly.”

She excuses herself to get more coffee for both of them whilst Vergil returns to his usual desk and rest his head, processing to clear his brain from any irrelevant informations when suddenly a glimpse of his experience as V comes up.

This life’s dim windows of the soul

Distorts the heavens from pole to pole

And leads you to believe a lie

When you see with, not through, the eye.

There was a time when he, as V, memorized that poem at the center of Redgrave City. He was exterminating demons along with his familiars. He did his best to save any last survivors as much as he can. Between his own survival agenda and his unnatural obsession to defeat Dante, he truly realized the tremendous gravity of crime he did all this time for his pursuit of power. All he wanted that time was just a chance of redemption. He saved the humans compulsively, again and again. Like he would never get atonement at all.

That was the time he learnt that every humans and demons has stories in their eyes. Whether it’s hunger, glutton, joy, fear, sadness, painful memories. It was all reflected in the eyes. Their desires were always transparent like an open book. Even his mother once said that eyes are the window of the soul. Vergil used this wisdom to analyze his enemies. To find out their true intention. But at that time, as V, he used the knowledge to understand humanity and self-introspection. To accept his own emotions and weaknesses.

It all make sense now why the librarian’s existence intrigues Vergil.

It’s her eyes, Vergil contemplates. Ones that didn't tell me its stories.

He quickly lifts his head when he hears the little steps of the librarian approaching him.

“I am sorry to keep you waiting,” she apologizes while placing a tray of pot of coffee and a book on the desk, careful not to place it too close to the Almagest. She fills their cups calmly, enjoying the coffee’s delightful smell. Though Vergil noticed her awkwardness for being around him.

It’s clear that the librarian feels a degree of burden from accepting the challenge from this mysterious, brooding tall man who visits the library almost every week. She’s aware of how intelligent this man could be. How he would challenge her intellect and make her arguments invalid. Even his name is enough to convince her that the man in front of her will be her most peculiar customer to handle.

However, their discussion regarding Almagest is running smoothly. Though not an expert of astronomy herself, she’s capable of explaining Vergil’s questions regarding the Almagest and astronomical trivias. Her eyes might not tell him anything, but he can sense her true passion in astronomy. She doesn’t speak unless Vergil ask her something he’s not quite understand. He notices the librarian silently reads The Fall of the House of Usher. She shows no difficulty switching her reading and tag along with their discussion.

“I am sure not an expert of Almagest, but I hope I can still give you some enlightment,” says the librarian before she sips her coffee.

“You already are,” Vergil admits. He scans Ptolemy’s equant model and memorizing the librarian’s explanation. From all chapters of the book, he found the star catalogue to be the most interesting part.

Young Vergil was astonished with the stars. Back to his childhood at Sparda Manor, when the night falls, the twins used to sneak out from their bedroom and climb the roof to stargazing. They were too young to truly acknowledged the beauty of the night sky, but Vergil enjoyed that moment. It was hard to find the right time to get along with Dante and made him sit still without bugging him any further. Dante would occasionally pointed on something in the sky, pretending he saw a meteor. Vergil would replied with sarcastic remarks as always, saying that he acts foolish or something. Then it would lead to another brotherly fight.

“The star catalogue is certainly the most enticing part of the book,” Vergil mutters, sipping his coffee as he inspects Ptolemy’s star chart.

“Indeed. The star map is ancestral to the modern system of constellations. Now there is another 40 officially recorgnized constellations and two trillions galaxies.”

The librarian adds new informations for Vergil, including the brightest stars of the constellations and best months to find it. He returns the favour by telling her more details about Greek mythology, which is inseparable with Ptolemy’s star mapping.

“It seems to me that ancient Greek gods has a fancy preference to placed their fallen heroes in the sky, if not, curse them into something ridiculous,” the librarian contemplates.

“Not all heroes,” Vergil refutes. “Cassiopeia mocked the Gods by boasting her daughter being more beautiful than all the Nereids. She was chained in her own throne as her punishment. Then Poseidon condemned her to circle the celestial pole forever.”

“More like a good example of what being a narcissistic could do rather than a tribute for her.” She mumbles. “It’s interesting to note that both Cassiopeia constellation and narcissistics have a similar trait.”

“Which is?”

“They are all easily spotted and visible all around the year.”

Vergil tries so hard not to burst in laugh. “Are there any constellations visible all the year aside from Cassiopeia?”

“There are Draco, Cepheus, Ursa Major and… Ursa Minor. There,” She points the picture of four constellations. “Together with Cassiopeia, they are circumpolar constellations of northern sky. These constellations circling Polaris, the brightest star of Ursa Minor. Commonly known as The North Pole Star. The big bear Ursa Major is the largest northern constellation. It also contains the most prominent asterism in the night sky, oftenly confused for the constellation itself. Cassiopeia is always easily recognized for its clear W shape, like she was being chained on her throne as you mentioned it earlier. While her husband and worst father ever to sacrificed his daughter to sea monster, Cepheus, is not widely known in spite of its size. Cepheus and Draco are two of the largest constellations in the sky but their stars are not as prominent as Ursa Major.”

“And these constellations remain invisible from southern locations?”

“Sadly, yes. But the south has its circumpolar constellations too. There are Centaurus, Carina, and Crux. You won’t find Carina and Crux in the Almagest. It was Argo Navis before French astronomer de Lacaille divided it into the three smaller constellations; Carina, Puppis, and Vela. As for the Crux, it was originally considered to be a part of the Centaurus before 1679, and the smallest of 88 constellations, if I’m not mistaken…”

“If you are not mistaken.” Vergil emphasises sarcastically.

“Which means I am certain that I mentioned it right.” she evades.

The librarian tries her best to not let her laughter comes out when she notices Vergil’s permanent frown gets more crumpled.

The librarian seems to enjoy driving the half-devil to the edge with her dry wit. She finds it funny to see Vergil grunts in annoyance, or his slightly amused grin whenever she said something peculiar. Maybe because the man in front of her right now is always covered by mysterious cloud. That his face is always solemn, imperceptible. He looks sullen, like he never laughed for his entire life. He really needs a bloody lot of kips, she thinks, taking note to Vergil’s darkened eyebags as she compares with her own eyebags, which she thought were quite dark already.

She was going to continue her explanation regarding the southern circumpolar constellations before an unexpected thought spills out from her mouth, “You are haunted, Mr Vergil.”

The atmospheres shifts abruptly. The hybrid’s shoulders stiffens as he glares to the librarian as a warning to not cross the line. His frightening stare sent chills down to the librarian’s spine that she almost choked on her own coffee.

“What’s with the sudden impudent commentary of yours, Librarian?” Vergil doesn’t try to hide his vexation.

“Uh… well…” the librarian chuckled nervously as she hides her face behind her novel, shielding herself from Vergil’s intimidating glare. “You always look like you are either staring to nothing or focus on your book. There is no in-between.”

“You’d be disappointed to know the fact that a lot of people do that. Every time.”

“True,” she agrees. “But you are different. You have the eyes of a man who still try to adjust the new world. Most of people are haunted by the past… but you are haunted by the present.”

She shut her mouth almost immediately, realizing Vergil does nothing but giving her threatening look to stop analyzing him. It was her only detriment; to be innocently curious about everything, silently observing and analyzing things. Most of her ideas are boxed inside her head. She never said it out loud. But this time she couldn’t help but spilling her thoughts. That she finds Vergil interesting.

“I will forgive your impertinence,” the blue demon closes the book and shifts his position to relax his previously tensed shoulders. “Only if you explain why do you think I’m haunted by the present.”

“Well,” she grins and bluntly explains, “There are two kinds of people who willingly to spend the rest of the day staying here; a keen of literature or a misanthrope. I dare say you are both, but I think you are here because you are overwhelmed with the outside world. You are adjusting something you had never experienced before. That adjustment, whatever it is, haunts you. It confuses you, what happens now and how you would react about it. Like the moment when you were unfamiliar with our registrative custom, which was odd because you looked like it was your first time registering something. Honestly? I thought you were making up your name. You looked terribly confused back then, as if you didn’t recognize your own name. You seems… detached from reality.”

I must not let my guard down anymore, Vergil makes a mental note as he feels defeated, even though he won’t admit that everything she said was the truth.

“Pause,” The librarian let out a gasp as she notices Vergil’s inconvenience, “Is it really okay if I continue? I don’t like being psychoanalyzed and I’m completely understand if you want me to stop.”

“You are too late for that. You already talk a little too much.”

“But you said you will forgive me only if I keep talking!”

“If you explain your impertinence.. not chattering like a mockingbird.”

“That’s harsh! Besides, how could I explain if I am not allowed to keep talking?”

I’m done playing words with this woman, Vergil slowly growls in frustration. He never thought that having conversation with a human could be this infuriating. “Then let’s settle the matter. Tell me your thoughts and be done with it.”

“Fair enough,” she seems satisfied, enjoying Vergil’s defeat and curiousity. “For the record, you are the one who asked me to talk. And that’s exactly what I’m going to do. Where was I…? Oh, yes, detached from reality. You speak about humans differently. You treated your surroundings like a bystander. Like you distinguish yourself from reality. It make sense, actually. To understand something, we must separate ourselves from it.”

“I get your point.”

The librarian looks puzzled, “Did you?”

“Of course.”

“Was that mean I was right about you?”

“Even if you are right, I won’t bother to tell you.”

“No… it just…” she taps her fingers slowly. “It’s hard for me to express my point of view, particularly to strangers. Moreover, to make them understand.”

“You’ve done well to the customers.”

“That was different. It’s for business.” She waves her hand nonchalantly. “My point is, maybe this library is the right place for you to adjust yourself. I don’t have any slightest ideas of what you’ve been through, but you deserve to find your peace. Other customers will find you too scary that they will leave this section as fast as they can—I mean, look at yourself! But what I see is just… a man who wants a little solitude from this noisy world. And I believe everyone deserves their own place in the sky… like the stars. No matter how insignificant they feel about themselves.”

The elder son of Sparda found himself stunned by her words. He never thought a human could possess the ability to see people in such illuminating way. She doesn’t flatter nor mock him, just simply stated her intuitive opinions about him. She but a stranger, seeing right through his psyche. The same odd woman who is now obliviously reading her novel like she had already forgotten of what she said earlier.

“You saw a lot, Librarian. That’s an exceptional gift.”

“Compulsive observation isn’t counted as exceptional gift. More like a curse, but thank you. Of course I could be wrong. Maybe you are just another introvert bloke who’s happened to passed by and read something here. Who knows?”

They now surrounded by a soothing silence. Both of them are preoccupied with their own thoughts. Vergil contemplates the librarian’s words about his adjustment with the present. He never really paid attention about that, but it turns out to be the very reason why he still fear any kind of human contacts. He lost so many years that he almost forgot how it is to be alive.

When he saw Dante and Nero for the first after he re-emerged, he couldn’t believe that everything around him was real. That everything was not a mere illusion anymore. He spent mindless and controlled under Mundus’s cruel illusion for years that the line between the real and the fake were blurring. He was blind and chained. Far too long that his soul was decayed.

And to think he still has a chance to make things right… to be truly alive in the present…

Yet there is still one thing that holds him back. There is a part of him which screaming in agony, searching for validity of his confusing emotions. A part which he hides it deep in his mind palace. The one he refuses to share. For he is afraid that he won’t get any enlightment. That he could be the old Vergil who was obsessed with power. The part that granted him moral codes and compassion.

His doubt on his humanity.

“I used to hate humans,” Vergil finally confesses. “I used to think that they are all weak and useless, and I loathed myself for being a part of human.”

The librarian gives him a curious look, her lips curves into a playful smile, “You stop hating them now? Why, you are right about them anyway.”

The hybrid cannot hold his surprise. The lady in front of him… a mortal human, confirmed Vergil’s confession with ease. As if she herself isn’t human. But that can’t be true, you are a human, right? Vergil tries so hard to not bluntly asking something obvious which could make him look like an imbecile. She doesn’t seem surprised at all by Vergil’s unusual confession.

“It might sounds strange, for I myself a human. But you are right about humans. I could understand why you hated them. Easily corrupted and manipulated, they destroy themselves for something meaningless. But humans are truly fascinating being.”

“Fascinating being…” Vergil murmurs dismissively.

“I think you know it as well as me,” she peeks over her book to meet Vergil’s intimidating, yet calming gaze. “They stand on the grey zone. They are unpredictable, complex being. While most demons only want power and human flesh to consume, humans only desire self-actualization. To be a better version of themselves. That could lead them in many ways. To do things differently. Isn’t that interesting, to think that all the humans in this world are never really the exact same individual? Humans are unique, Mr Vergil. Each of them. Their ability to endure is transcendent.”

“Humans are selfish being.” Vergil objects. “Their desire of self-actualization is misleading. Some humans want to be demon so much that they become something worse than the demon itself.” Including my former self. “They crave for something more. Their greed is boundless.”

“Indeed,” she admits. “I won’t defend that fact. Humans are biologically and inherently selfish. The same goes with human emotions. Though oftenly fallacious, it’s important for human survival…”

“Sounds like a creature of flaw.”

“No one’s perfect, Mr Vergil. Everyone’s flawed. “ the librarian took notice of skepticism in Vergil’s statement. “Yet you stop hating humanity.”

“I try to embrace the fact that I’m part of humanity.”

“Why?”

“… because I have a family to protect.”

“There,” she gives him understanding wink. “Unlike demons, humans have connection to each other called compassion. Their instinct to protect their beloved ones. Their need of security and sense of belonging. Without all of it, humans would ended up just like beasts. That’s what distiguished us from demons. But not all demons. They said Dark Knight Sparda fought for humanity and became a human as well. It seems to me that every humans and demons have choice to be the better or the worst version of theirselves… to be a demon, to be a human… to conquer or to protect.”

“Without strength, you cannot protect anything,” Vergil adds, more like talking to himself.

“Fine word, Mr Vergil.”

“That’s what happens when you’re responsible for lives other than your own.”

“Which means you are not fighting alone. You have someone to protect you.”

You’re gonna need some help… and someone to keep an eye on you, Dante’s voice echoed inside Vergil's head. Had Vergil dismissed him, he would ended up alone again in the Underworld. The fact that Dante was willingly throw himself to join Vergil made him feel secure. That he’s protected.

Why did it take him so long to realise that he was always saved by humanity?

“Ah… that remind me of something…” The librarian seems out of place again. Her unusual pale face is suddenly turns deadpan. But that statement just left hanging in the air as the librarian went back from her reverie. Leaving a trace of voidness in her eyes.

“Your eyes, librarian,” Vergil addresses after he saw the voidness again. “Those eyes spoke nothing.”

“Pardon?”

“I’ve seen thousands stories behind every eyes.” The hybrid knocks his fingers on the Almagest as he feels the urge to tell her the truth. That he was enchanted (or bothered?) by her unsettling eyes. “But yours telling me nothing.”

“Oh… well, what am I supposed to do with that information?” she closes her book abruptly, startled by the statement. “They said eyes are the window of the soul, am I right? Was that mean I have no soul?”

“On the contrary,” Vergil disproves. “You have a wanderer soul. A mind of philosopher.”

She flustered as she breaks her eye contact with Vergil. “Well… thank you?”

“You are welcome.” he says softly. “It just… nevermind. Forget everything I said about your eyes. I must have mistook it for something else.”

He lied, of course. His intuition never betrayed him. There’ll be another time, Vergil thought, realizing it’s futile to contend with the librarian. This was their first real conversation since their encounter three months ago and both of them need some time to open up. He won’t rush it. Not that now he really wanted to at least make an acquaintance with a normal human. Moreover, the one who could keep up with his mind and antics,

The librarian seems uncomfortable with Vergil’s appraisal. It was odd, since she thought Vergil isn’t the kind of person who would’ve easily praise someone. Little does she know that Vergil would only compliments people who’s worth his time and energy. She avoids Vergil’s inquisitive eyes, tapping her wristwatch, ”I hate to end our discussion, but apparently we’re closed.”

Vergil surveys at the winter sky that soon will turn into dark, velvet blue from the window beside his desk, “Very well then.”

“You may borrow it as long as you want,” the librarian points at the Almagest as she cleans the empty cups.

“Would that be okay for you?” Vergil doubtly glances at the book.

“Just please don’t report me to Mr Steiner,” she chuckles when she mentioned the library’s owner. Vergil remembers an old man and his occasional visits to the library and checking notes at receptionist table. “A kind one, that man, but his wrath was horrendous.”

“Won’t your colleague complain about this?”

“Nate? He’s off duty today. Worry not, he rarely checks Rare Section.” She stands up, about to lift her tray. “Oh, and please take a great care of it. I’d lose all of my wages if you somehow decided to broke it.”

“I won’t,” he reassures. “Although it is not wise to trust a stranger, Librarian.”

“Righty-ho,” she winks mischievously. “Yet I believe this stranger will keep his words.”

“And how would this stranger keep his words if he doesn’t even know the name of the very person who made him promised?”

“Ah… Mr Vergil… I did mentioned my name in our earlier discussion!” she giggles as she grips her tray in excitement. “But yes, I didn’t precisely tell you that it was my name.”

“I don’t like riddles.”

“Ha! Then let’s play a riddle, shall we? It should be easy if you listened carefully to my explanations regarding constellations!”

It is surely futile to contend with this peculiar woman. As much as he dislikes to accept the challenge, he ultimately agreed to prove his competency. He won’t lose to everyone, let alone this scallywag librarian. He folds his hands on the chest as she prepares to give him clues :

“I am visible in the Northern and Southern hemispheres

I am prominent in the summer night sky

I belong to the Hercules family of constellations

My closest neighbour constellation is Cygnus

The meteor shower appears annually in April

I have one of the brightest star in the sky.”

The hybrid goes silent, recalling his recent discussion with the librarian. He remembers the librarian briefly mentioned this constellation— a small constellation, but its brightest star is the fifth brightest star in the sky…

The process of recall also brings him to the second passage of Georgics, which originally was a Greek tale of tragic story between a musician who attempted to retrieving his dead lover from the Underworld. He managed to get through all of the obstacles only by the play of his music instrument and softened the heart of Hades, the ruler of the Underworld.

This pattern of memories immediately leads him to his answer.

“You are heavily associated with the musician Orpheus, who took his own life after his failure to ressurect Eurydice, his beloved wife. Then Zeus placed you, Orpheus’s most cherished instrument, amongst the stars,” Vergil smiles in victory. “The lyre… Lyra.”

Lyra smiles slyly, “Touché, Mr Vergil.”

“Just Vergil is fine.”

“Very well then, Vergil.”

Lyra excuses herself to wash the cups, but Vergil insists to follow her to receptionist table. He waits her to finish the washing and packing her belongings while reading the motions of Venus and Mars from the Almagest. He occasionally asks her something concerning the part he read on and she’ll answer his questions from her office.

“Your choice of word was interesting, Vergil.” Lyra shouts while drying the cups.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You said Orpheus took his own life,” she recites. “But let say God doesn’t exist, then it’s absurd to say that he took his own life. Taking it from who? If his life was truly his…”

The hybrid demon sighs frustratedly, “It’s a figure of speech. Do you always take things too literally?”

“Blimey, Vergil. I was just joking!” the librarian appears in the office doorway as she wears her gloves. Her blue oversized sweater is now covered with black babydoll coat. Vergil makes a mental note of her elegant, classy appearance as the two of them heading out of the library. Clearly she is a type of person who prioritize comfort in clothing rather than fashion, but she is nonetheless still an attractive woman.

“Your whimsical sense of humour could drive one to insanity,” he remarks, but there is no offensive tone in his voice. He does enjoy her quirky humour, though he won’t admit it.

“Oh, Vergil…” Lyra smiles mysteriously while locking the entrance door. “You have no idea what insanity is.”

Or maybe I do have the idea.

They continue their conversation until they walk pass the crowd of the street. As the conversation goes on, Vergil mentally noted Lyra’s favourites and her quirks; she has too many favourite books, but she will always re-read The Hound of Baskerville and The Silence of the Lambs. Vergil was never stand too close from her to notice her slight limp on her right leg— too subtle that normal human eyes couldn’t spot it. He wonders how she got that, but he doesn’t ask. Instead he tells her his favourites and that he prefers classics, but he’s open for something new.

“Wait a second.”

Lyra jogs to a patch of blooming snowdrops as they’re passing a playground. She picks the flower, making a small bouquet from it, and quickly returns to Vergil, who’s waiting for her in confusion.

“Galanthus nivalis,” she hands him the bouquet. “They say snowdrop represents a friend in adversity.”

“Also consolation and hope,” Vergil adds. He touches the petals with one of his gloveless finger delicately, as he recalls the language of flowers his mother taught him once. The twins were regularly helped their mother gardening as she told them the story behind every flowers.

Lyra lifts her eyebrows, “Never thought you’d familiar with floriography.”

“As a librarian, I think you know it better than me to not judge a book by its cover.”

“You got a point there," she scans through the snowdrops on Vergil’s firm hand. “My mother once told me, if I find myself lost, pick flowers.”

“That was an exquisite wisdom.”

“It is,” she grins. “That’s why I picked you these snowdrops. You seem lost. You should start picking more flowers.”

“Only if I lose myself,” Vergil pledges. “At the moment, I think I already have my answers. You’ve been very helpful.”

“No worries,“ Lyra continues her walk before she turns her back to Vergil again. “I’ll take my leave here. It was a pleasure to meet you, Vergil.”

The hybrid doesn’t respond. He doesn’t like the idea of her walking all alone in dark alleys. There is a part of him which urging him to escort her until she’s safely arrived at her house. The world is full of danger. It could be anything; demons, thieves, serial killers, even natural disasters. “I could… you know… escort you home.” Vergil almost bite his lips, curse himself for his reckless offer.

Lyra shake her head, although she noticed the visible concern from the man who stand still in front of her. “It’s very kind of you to offer me escortion, but I still have to stop by my friend’s house.”

Her face determines her reluctance to be escorted that Vergil couldn’t find better excuse, “If you say so.”

"Well… normally I would say ‘goodbye’ to strangers because I don’t plan to meet them again. But this time I’ll say ‘auf Wiedersehen’, means ‘until we see each other again’”.

“Bold of you to assume that we will see each other again.”

“As a librarian, I have a duty to remind you that you still have a book to return.”

Vergil couldn’t help but chuckles as he’s amused with her perfect comeback. Her laughter is strong enough to make Vergil reciting a poem that revolved around his head regarding her presence :

“The sun descending in the west

The evening star does shine

The birds are silent in their nest

And I must seek for mine.

The moon, like a flower,

In heaven’s high bower,

With silent delight

Sits and smiles on the night.”

The librarian stands speechless. The pupil of her eyes dilates in awestruck, not aware of the hybrid’s delicacy of making those void eyes now full in adoration.

“That was… splendid.” she blurts. “I’ve heard that somewhere… Shakespeare? Wordsworth? Oh, no no no… hmm… Blake?”

She smiles in victory as Vergil gives her a confirmation nod. She remembered Vergil’s book list, “Your favourite, of course.”

“Do me a favour,” Vergil says seriously. “Be very careful on your way back home. Our world is a savage world.”

“Of course.“ She nods in beam. “Though I assure you, I’m penniless and too troublesome to be kidnapped.”

“I can see that.“

Lyra waves her hand playfully as she takes her leave, “Auf Wiedersehen, Publius Vergilius Maro.”

The blue demon couldn’t help but rolls his eyes.

“Word of advice, Vergil,” she shouts before she disappears into the crowd of the boulevard. “Ad astra per aspera.”

To the stars through difficulties. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Vergil waits until he can’t see Lyra’s figure anymore. He somewhat feel guilty for leaving her defenseless, alone in the street. Yet he trusts his intuition, that she is capable of taking care of herself. It doesn’t stop him to think that he will escort her if she allows him, though. Being around her is just… different. It’s different from what Vergil feels when he’s with Dante and Nero. Definitely not the same way when he’s around Devil May Cry crews. Even this is the different kind of feeling he once had for Nero’s mother, a long time ago.

The blue hybrid looks up to the cloudy night sky.

According to Lyra’s explanation, winter is the best season for stargazing. There are so much observable astronomical events in this season, not to mention the appearance of Winter Triangle and Winter Hexagon, the two major asterism that dominates the winter night sky.

“The Winter Triangle formed by Betelgeuse in Orion, Sirius in Canis Major, and Procyon in Canis Minor,” Vergil recalled Lyra’s voice when they discussed asterism. “While the Winter Hexagon are much more complicated. There are Rigel in Orion, Aldebaran in Taurus, Castor and Pollux in Gemini, Capella in Auriga, and the two from the Winter Triangle: Sirius and Procyon. Sometimes both asterisms appear simultaneously.”

One of the perks of being a half-human and half-demon is enhanced senses, including advanced vision. The sky isn’t clear, for the clouds are too dense, but Vergil can easily spot the Winter Triangle without difficulty. The stars are shining brightly that it reflects back in Vergil’s blue eyes. There is Sirius, he spots the second brightest star as viewed from Earth. He remembers Lyra mentioned that Sirius will continue to be the brightest star in the Earth’s night sky for the next 210.000 years.

He’s not sure that he would live to witness that phenomenon. Even Sparda didn’t live that long. Yet the fact that he would someday die doesn’t bother him. He is no longer interested in searching for power anymore, now that he realized that his true power lies within his humanity. He becomes more convinced after his conversation with Lyra. That humanity is flawed, but worth to defend. It makes him the man he is now.

The thought of the librarian gave him a moment of serenity in the darkness of the street. Gently, he slips the snowdrop bouquet Lyra made for him between the pages of Almagest. The token of their friendship. Her offer for his adversity. That remind him of a poem his mother once recited for him, when he was helping her at the garden of Sparda Manor :

“Now— now, as I stooped, thought I

I will see what this snowdrop is

So shall I put much argument by

And solve a lifetime’s mysteries.”

“Interesting.” He mutters to himself as he summons the Yamato, cut the space to open a portal and walks towards Devil May Cry office.

–

Here's the source of recited and mentioned poems and lines :

Paradise Lost by John Milton

Mrs Dalloway by Virginia Woolf

Auguries of Innocence by William Blake

Georgics by Virgil

Night by William Blake

The Snowdrop by Walter de la Mere

107 notes · View notes

shepherd-of-the-stars · 5 years ago

Text

Artificial

My submission for @hetabang ! Hope you like it!

Word count: 3,590

Summary: Novovol, Russia, the 36th century. The people of this new age have formed two distinct societies: those of the upper world, high in the sky in pearly cities, and those of the lower world, living on junkyard scraps and breathing polluted air. These societies, both run on fear and power, were meant to forever stay separate. But one night, an android fell from the sky and broke through the barrier that divided them. An android who has no memory, not even his own name, programmed to be a companion, but also a guard. His weapons system had been upgraded illegally, and without proper maintenance, could prove to be dangerous and unstable. Ivan, one of the best mechanics of the lower world, fixes him up and gives him a name; Alfred. Together, they go on an adventure, discovering things about their world, themselves, and their feelings.

Chapter summary: Ivan ventures into the junkyard to dig through the heaps for useful treasures, his almost nightly activity. One wild decision changes the course of his life.

Warnings: brief mentions of death and bodies, hints at abuse(through scars)

Rating: T (to be changed)

Chapter 1: Hell’s Wasteland

The cold night air did wonders in smothering the noxious scents that blanketed the junkyard like a fog. While the sun’s heat cooked them and made them more powerful, nighttime forced them into hiding. The stench of death and rusted metal was enough to make a normal person retch, but Ivan frequented the location often enough that it was nothing but a minor nuisance.

With his scarf pulled up to cover his nose and goggles to protect his eyes from the chemicals and dust, he weaved through the heaps of filth, looking for treasures hidden amongst the trash. His mechanical pack mule followed behind him dutifully with its heavy, steel feet making square indents in the hard dirt. The droid was bulky and large, similar to the size of its namesake, but its well oiled parts allowed it to move silently. The only noise that came from it was when the luggage it carried clashed into each other inside the bins on its back.

This machine, that Ivan had built from scraps and named Buster, carried his maker's oddments so that Ivan could dig through the heaps freely. Every couple feet, the man stopped to poke through the collection of garbage and junk to pick out pieces that he could use for his work. There was a time when he'd jump at every eerie thing he found, but after years of coming here, those things only made his heart skip just a little.

Spotting a human-like leg sticking out from a pile, Ivan scanned it with his device and waited. "Artificial, 20% damage," it said, allowing Ivan to release his breath and drag the limb out so he could toss it into his bins. He had learned the hard way that it was better to be safe than to drag out a corpse.

It was one of the reasons the place was nicknamed "Hell's Wasteland." Broken androids tossed out here made it look like the place was littered with human bodies. The gangs saw that as an opportunity and began to dispose of their enemies here, hence the smell of decay. No one but vultures like Ivan went through here. No one would ever see. And even if someone did, the law would never listen to someone who only had 2 sets of clothes and ate crumbs for meals.

What was once a scrap yard had now turned into a dumping ground. After the owners had disappeared, no one was left to take over. Local rumors said that the owners were still on the land, buried under rotten food and broken refrigerators. “If you listen closely, you can hear them crying,” they would say, “they’re waiting for someone to rescue them. But once you get close enough, they’ll snatch your body and use it as their own.”

But Ivan knew better than to listen to wild stories of ghosts and possession. He knew after many visits that it was the cries of cats. When they yowled in the night, it sounded like a child who had lost their guardian, or perhaps someone who was in pain. And since they ran away at the slightest sound, it was no surprise many people have never seen the source of the sound.

Just then, that exact sound that people dreaded hearing pierced through the air and struck Ivan’s heart with chilling fear. He knew it was only a cat, but even the bravest of men would flinch at a shrill noise breaking silence. Head tilted towards the night sky, he listened, waiting for the sound to meet him again.

When it came, he followed it with the stealth of an assassin. Even the slightest disturbance could send them running, and Ivan didn’t want to miss his chance of seeing a cute cat.

With every step, he drew closer, which meant the cat had not discovered him yet. Maybe this time he would be able to catch it and bring it home. Then again, his budget could barely support his sisters and himself. To add another mouth to feed, that would leave them eating out of the dumpster. But one could dream. A small part of him hoped that the soft clanging of metal in Buster’s bins scared the cat away so he wouldn’t have false hope.

But things never seemed to turn out his way. As he peeked out from behind an overturned car, he spotted the cat that had been yowling for attention and finally understood why it had not run.

What he saw was an unfortunate black cat stuck in a discarded raccoon trap, its paw reaching out past the bars in an attempt to open the spring doors. Ivan approached it slowly, his large body hunched over in an attempt to make himself smaller for the cat. The mental image of himself looking like a crooked, old witch approaching their animal apprentice crossed his mind and made him smile.

“Don’t scratch me, please,” he whispered after tugging down his scarf, “I’m just trying to help you.”

Back arched and hairs standing straight, the cat was not happy at all that such a big creature was so close while it was defenseless. It hissed and swatted at Ivan’s hands when he got too close, but eventually, the human proved to be trustworthy.

He didn’t make any sudden movements, and for that, the small creature was thankful. Slowly, it relaxed, pressing itself against the corner of the cage instead of trying to shred Ivan’s helping hand.

“You’re very beautiful. I will call you Novi. Do you like that?” He smiled down at the black cat that stared at him with wide, wary eyes. The cage jolted and clicked when it was finally opened and the cat took off with such speed, he could see bits of the ground scatter as her claws tore it up.

Ivan let out a soft grunt of disappointment watching her disappear behind a pile of garbage bags. “What? No ‘thank you’? That’s a little bit rude.” He chuckled at his own silliness before walking back over to his droid. “Did you get that, Buster?”

Those keywords made the droid open his sealed mouth with a click. Ivan reached between the spiked teeth to grab a cord to connect to his phone while Buster’s eyes flashed red to verify his identity. They turned blue when the iris scan passed the test, his tail wagging as his defense mode was disengaged. Only Ivan, his sisters, and people he approved had access to Buster’s security files. If anyone else had tried it, the jaws would clamp shut with enough force to take their hand clean off their body.

With a few taps, he was able to see what his droid’s eyes had recorded. Crystal clear footage of Ivan interacting with the cat popped up on his screen. The quality was good enough that Ivan could pause and zoom in on it just to get a closer look. He took a screenshot and smiled.

“Send this image to Kat. Caption it, ‘rescued a cat from a raccoon cage. Named it Novi. Can I keep it?’ Message complete.” He continued to scrub through the video as he waited for the droid to do as he said.

The droid went completely still for a few seconds then moved his head in a nodding motion once it was done. He spoke in a human-like voice with a slight mechanical buzz. “Message sent to Kat: Rescued a cat from a raccoon cage. Named it Novi. Can I keep it? Image attached.”

“Good boy.” Ivan pat him on the head twice before disconnecting the cord and tapping his chin, making his steel jaws slam shut. Turning to the left, he began to return to his previous task but Buster stood firm.

“Novi spotted.”

Ivan stopped, turning back to the droid. “What?”

“Novi spotted,” he repeated, looking straight ahead.

He followed the eyes of his droid until he saw what his target was. There, standing on top of an old monitor, was Novi. Her tail swayed in the air playfully, as if waiting for Ivan to notice. “Are you back to thank me?” He asked the question as if he expected an answer.

Novi stared at him, completely still except her tail, then she blinked and hopped off the pile of scraps. Ivan had expected her to run a second time, but she turned back to look at him and waited.

“Buster,” he said, his eyes not leaving the cat.

The droid chimed once.

“Choice: Follow, or don’t follow.”

The droid chimed twice. “Choice: Follow, or don’t follow. I choose follow.”

Ivan hesitated. “Buster, what’s my luck today?”

Two chimes again. “Your luck today is amazing! Who knows what will happen when you take a chance!”

“Take a chance,” he repeated under his breath. Every fiber of his being was screaming to him that this was just like the start of a horror movie, but he took a deep breath and began walking towards the cat. “Maybe she will show me her kittens. Yes. This will be good. I have good luck today.”

Even as he told himself this, his hands were cold and clammy from nervousness. A black cat on a full moon wanted to lead him somewhere. It didn’t seem like a good sign. Any rational person would ignore this stray animal. It could be a trap. Maybe demons. Or maybe Ivan was just being too superstitious.

Several times, he had attempted to turn the other direction, thinking that following a cat was just too silly, but every time Ivan tried, Novi would walk back over to Ivan and stare. Waiting. Whatever it was Novi was trying to show him, it must be important.

“Alright alright, I’m following,” he muttered after a fourth attempt to escape.

They were nearing the center of the junkyard now. The piles here were stacked so high, even Ivan had to crane his neck to catch only a small glimpse of what was at the top.

He tended to avoid this area. Located directly below the highway, it was a popular spot to toss things over the side. If one wasn’t careful, they could be crushed flat by someone tossing out their garbage. It was also very unstable. One misstep could cause the garbage to topple like an avalanche, and if one was alone, once they were buried, that would be the end.

“I don’t think I can follow you further, Novi.” Ivan watched as the cat hopped gracefully on the pile, her light body barely making the objects move. But for Ivan, every step he took made garbage tumble down the sides.

The foolish human had already come this far on his quest, and he didn't want to waste it by turning back. But one wrong step made his foot slip into the pile, a broken beer bottle cutting into his leg. It wasn't deep, but it was enough to make him hiss and stain his torn pants with blood.

Maybe it was a sign that he should stop trying to climb this mountain of garbage. The wound on his leg was small, but if it wasn't treated, it could cause an infection. “I’m sorry but this is the end of our little adventure. My sister will be very angry if I die trying to follow a cat.”

Of course, Novi gave no response. She only stared at him a while longer, looked at the highway above, then took off. At first, Ivan thought that perhaps she had run off because she knew Ivan would no longer follow, but the sound of a car door slamming shut told him otherwise.

“Oh no.” He looked up at the highway, spotting two men approaching the side, working together to carry something heavy. Ivan shouted for them to stop as he scrambled to get to the bottom, but they couldn’t hear him. From the highway to the ground was a drop almost a hundred feet. His pleads would never reach them. And even if they did, they wouldn’t care.

Ivan had only caught a glimpse of what looked like an old sofa being chucked over the edge before the impact of it crashing down into the pile caused everything to topple over. Like a mudslide, everything on the top layer tumbled to the ground, Ivan included.

He did what he could to protect himself as he fell; his limbs cut and bruised as he tried to shield his head. There was nothing he could hold on to. Nothing was stable. It only stopped when everything pooled on the ground, adding to the mountain’s size.

Buster, who had stayed on the ground while Ivan chose to climb, ran over to the spot his maker was buried. He dug him out as fast as he could, then dragged Ivan to the side where he’d be able to avoid the damage of falling garbage.

“Are you okay?” What Buster got wasn’t an answer to his question, but a smack on his metal head. “Ow.”

“You liar. You said I have good luck!” He hissed as he stood up. His clothing was torn in several places and his body was covered in filth.

Buster tilted his head to the side in confusion. “Luck readings are chosen randomly from choices you programmed into my system. If you are not satisfied with your reading, please ask ag-... Ow.” The droid was cut short when his maker smacked him again.

“Maybe if I rebooted you, you won’t be so sassy.”

“My personality is also programmed by you.”

“Stop talking.”

“Silent mode: On.”

Ivan sighed when the droid went silent. He knew it was his own fault for following a cat into such dangerous territory. Now he had to go home and tell his sister that he needed to borrow money to buy a new set of clothes. At least his scarf was okay.

He wrapped the piece of cloth back to how it was when he started his hunt and tended to all the cuts with the first aid kit kept inside his droid. Then, pretending like nothing had happened, he went back to digging through the rubble. If he was going to ask Kat for money, the least he could do was sell a couple more of his projects to earn it back. And to do that, he needed the parts.

The more he looked and the more he collected, he was beginning to believe that perhaps Buster’s reading was correct. While this area was dangerous and risky, it also held the freshest picks. He had collected so much scrap metal and spare parts that the bins grew full.

Dozens of different projects zipped through his mind. He could make a small pet droid. Maybe a drone. Or maybe he could invent something brand new! He could be rich!

A noise from the highway above only added to his excitement. He took a couple steps back from the pile, just to be safe, then watched to see what the people would toss over. “Come on. Give me something good.”

All he could see were dark figures, but the mystery of it made his heart race. It all stopped when he saw the discarded object reveal itself in the moonlight as it fell. “No way…”

Like before, the impact of the tossed object caused the pile to crumble. Anything on the surface was buried once again, but Ivan’s eyes were locked on the new addition.

He waited until the trash had settled and the men above had left before dashing over to where the object was resting. It was buried under bags of garbage and electronic trash, but Ivan had found it. It was broken and damaged, but it was unmistakably an android.

“What a beauty,” he said to himself as he admired the human-like machine. If it wasn’t for the broken skin revealing metal underneath, Ivan would have thought it was a human.

The body was built to be male, a strong one too, and it had a head of long, blond hair with a firm but pretty face. The model wasn’t one Ivan has seen in the catalogs either, so it must be custom built. Which also meant it was an expensive model. The more expensive the model, the more he could sell it for.

“Let’s see… Are you still active?” He waved a hand in front of the android’s lifeless face but gained no reaction. Snapping his fingers to try and wake it by sound did not work either. But when his hand made contact with its silicon skin, its eyes snapped open and locked on Ivan.

Ivan jumped back quickly when blue eyes flashed red. “W-wait!” He snatched up whatever he could to protect himself. Unfortunately, his weapon of choice turned out to be a bent pole. “I’m friendly. I promise.”

The android stared at him for a long time. Ivan could hear the whir of his engine as his system tried to determine whether or not Ivan was a threat. Several times, his eyes had gone dark only to flash back on again seconds later.

“Battery failure,” he whispered as a mental note, “but reaction is good.” That brought a smile to his face. With a couple quick fixes, he could have this android good as new and sell him for thousands. So no matter how long it would take, he waited.

He waited, with an eager smile, until the android relaxed his body, his eyes dimming down to a natural blue. “Identify yourself,” he spoke. His voice box was damaged, making his speech sound like he was speaking through a static tube.

"My name is Ivan. I won't hurt you," he keeps his voice calm and quiet like he had with Novi. Now that the android had calmed, he lowered his weapon and came closer until he was within his arm’s reach.

Ivan had opened his mouth to speak again, but the android’s arm shot forward and grabbed his scarf. He pulled the human down until Ivan was staring into flickering blue eyes. “Who… am I?”

"I don't know. We've only just met. But I can find out." Dig through his memory files, erase them, reboot him, sell.

"Are you ICON?" The android spoke the word as if he didn’t know the meaning.

“ICON?” Ivan paused, his train of thought halting. "I'm Ivan, not ICON. What is ICON?"

He was silent and still for a while, making Ivan believe that it was another system malfunction. But since he had continued to blink, Ivan knew it was just his mind trying desperately to process an answer. "I... don't know. My limbs are damaged. I don't believe I can walk."

"I can take you to my home.” He took a step to the side, gesturing to Buster. “I can fix you. Would you like that?"

"I lack the currency required. At least... I believe I do..." His eyes moved sluggishly from Ivan to the droid, then back again.

"I don’t require currency. Only your permission. Will you allow me to fix you?"

The android grew silent again, then slowly, he nodded. “Okay.”

"I'm going to pick you up now. Is that alright?"

"... I give you permission," he nodded again, "but become a threat and you're dead."

Ivan gave the android a nod in return before he slowly moved the junk off of him. It wasn’t until all of it was cleared that he realized the reason the android couldn’t move.

His left arm and both of the android’s legs were marked with plasma burns. The damage of it melted through the synthetic skin, past the metal plating, and scorched the circuits underneath. The pattern of the injury looked like it was done with a rope, or perhaps a whip, wrapped several times around each damaged limb. Thoughts of fixing and reselling the android quickly began to fade. Not even a machine deserved to be treated like this. The rich were truly inhumane.

“Does it hurt?”

"Of course it hurts," he gave him a puzzled look, "but that doesn't matter."

"It does matter. You shouldn't suffer. Do you want me to power you down? I promise I'll turn you on again when you're safe. It’s so you won't suffer any pain when I move you."

The android frowned, his face scrunched up in distrust. "How can I trust you?"

"I guess you'll just have to. But I won't force you to agree."

The android had no reason to trust Ivan. They had only just met. If Ivan was a dishonest person, he could shut Alfred down, take him apart, and resell every piece for a good price. Both parties knew that. But Buster had predicted that today was Ivan's lucky day, and that prediction showed to be true. The android, who couldn’t even process his own memories, had decided to trust him.

“Fine,” he said, his voice soft. “Turn… turn me off. But I’m trusting you.”

"You're making the right decision. I'll speak to you again soon. I’m turning you off now." He reached forward slowly, praying that the android wouldn’t activate his defenses once again. His fingers felt around the back of his neck until he grazed across a circular dent.

For a second, his fingers rested there as he stared into the android’s eyes. He recognized the fear, the panic and uncertainty, but if Ivan was going to move him without hurting him, he would need to be shut down.

“You can trust me,” Ivan reassured him.

Then slowly, the android’s eyes slipped shut.

#hetabang #rusame #rusame fanfiction #hws russia #hws america #hetabang fanfiction #bringbackhetalia2020 #hws rusame #artificial #scifi au #machine learning about humans trope #two fics in one month after 2 years of silence? yes #youre going to get two more years of silence because im goinf back to work in 2 days #wish me luck please #i dont want to go back to dealing with idiots

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greenbagjosh · 4 years ago

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23 April 2001 - the Böögg burns slowly - James Joyce found in Fluntern

Grüezi Mitenand! Bonjour! Buongiorno! Hi everyone!

Thank you for joining me on the fifth day of the April 2001 journey. Today is Monday the 23rd April 2001.

As I was still under the influence of jetlag, I went to bed early the previous night after dinner. I consequently woke up about 4:40 AM, it was still dark. I did not have any roommates to disturb so I just went to the shower in the hall. The hostel would not serve breakfast until 6 AM, so I left the hostel about 5 AM, walked to the Besenrainstrasse bus stop and took it to Morgental where I changed to the tram line 7 - note, I had my Swiss Pass with me, so I did not have to buy a separate ticket. I picked up a copy of the 20 Minuten newspaper and it had an article about today's upcoming event at 6 PM, the Sechseläuten burning of the Böögg.

What is a Böögg? Since the 19th Century, Sechseläuten has been celebrated every mid-April in Zürich. According to zuerich.com, "Who or What is a Böögg? The word “Böögg” is probably related to the word “bogeyman” and similar names in other languages for this frightening imaginary figure, such as Bullebeiss, Buhmann or Boesman. In Zurich, the Böögg resembles a snowman and symbolizes the winter. The burning of the Böögg serves to drive out the winter and herald the spring." Eventually the Bürkliplatz towards Lake Zürich was too small, so it was moved across the Limmat eastward to the Bellevueplatz, on the northern end of the Neue Zürcher Zeitung headquarters. You might know the Bellevueplatz as the starting point for the Street Parade techno music festivals that start about 1 PM on the second Saturday in August, of which I have been to five in total so far.

So what happens at the Sechseläuten festival? Sechseläuten is a half-day holiday, in the Canton of Zürich, but nowhere specifically else in Switzerland. The Böögg is a textile snowman filled with explosives and is meant to be set alight on a controlled flame, in other words, a bonfire. The most explosives are put in the snowman's head. Then there is a parade, for the guilds of Zürich from Paradeplatz to Bellevueplatz, to put the Böögg on top of the wood for the bonfire. That is the plan for the afternoon.

I took the tram about 5:15 AM to Selnau station and walked from one end to the other. I exited the station, and walked along Sihlstrasse to the intersection of Talstrasse and Löwenstrasse. At the pedestrian crossing there was a crossing stripe with the phrase "rauf mit den o+löhnen" spraypainted, with o+ being the female symbol, I guess a demand for gender pay equality. That was about 5:35 AM, according to the picture screenshot.

About 5:38 AM I found a guild sign, namely the "Zunft Schwamendingen" while walking along Talackerstrasse that leads southeast to Paradeplatz. At Paradeplatz was a big banner for the local tram company VBZ (Verkehrsbetriebe Zürich) "damit am Sechseläuten nur der Böögg den Kopf verliert" (so that on Sechseläuten, only the Böögg loses his head". I remember from September 2000 a similar banner for Knabenschiessen, as I was in Zürich for that festival as well. I took a tram to Bellevueplatz to have a look at the bonfire. It must have been stacked about two stories high. I took a tram line 6 to Bahnhof Enge and then tram 7 to the hostel. It was about 6:55 AM and the hostel started serving breakfast, in the part where in 2004 onwards the checkin desk is located now. With the renovations of December 2001 onwards, the checkin desk and hostel restaurant had swapped sides of the hostel ground floor. I can explain at another time. Breakfast included bread, cheese, cold cut meats, dry cereal, milk, tea, orange juice and coffee. Coffee was from the espresso machine and you could order at least three different kinds of coffee drinks, all for free during breakfast. For tea, you would pick out a bag, and with the espresso machine just select the hot water.

As the Sechseläuten parade would not start until about 2 PM, I decided to make a couple of side trips. One of which to Aarau in the canton of Aargau to the northwest, and to Üetliberg to compare a nice sunny and warm September visit would be to a chilly one in April. I thus took my video camera, my Swiss Pass, and headed to the Besenrainstrasse bus stop, Morgental and on to Zürich HB. I boarded a train to Bern that would stop at Lenzburg AG and Aarau. There was not much in Aarau that I particularly wanted to see, other than the Altstadt and crossing the Aare at Flösserplatz. Little did I know that Aarau is close to the cantonal border with Solothurn, and I did not take time to walk along route 5 to cross, but I made up for it a few days later when changing trains at Olten. Before returning to Zürich, I remember passing by the Pickwick pub. It was, and is still, at Graben 6 close to the Kasinopark. It was not yet 11 AM and I was in no mood for any alcohol at that time, and I needed to return to Zürich.

I took the train back to Zürich via Lenzburg, and changed to the S-10. I may have mentioned the S-10 many times in the past, and it is an anomaly in comparison to the other S-Bahn lines in Zürich. Its rolling stock, instead of the standard 15 kV / 16 2/3 Hz voltage as used by SBB, Deutsche Bahn and ÖBB of Austria, uses the 1,000 V DC, which is long since outdated and is due to be decommissioned by 2023, but is still used by the existing rolling stock. To avoid a conflict of voltages, the pantographs of the S-10 rolling stock are moved from the center of the train but placed on the left side (assuming the direction of travel is towards Zürich HB) with its own catenary. Parts of the tunnel between Zürich HB, Selnau and Binz/Giesshübel allow for opposite side and switchback use by both lines S-4 and S-10, but SBB and VBZ have seen an increase in ridership on S-10 and they are trying to invest in line expansion, so the 1,000 V DC power will need to be decommissioned and only one power source will be supported. The S-18, aka Forchbahn, is another story, which I will not go into at this time.

About 11:25 AM I returned to Zürich HB. The tracks to the S-10 are underground and close to the Bahnhofplatz and Löwenstrasse rail station platforms. In 2001, the platforms were called platform 1 for the S-10 and platform 2 for the S-4. After the opening of the four platform Löwenstrasse station, platforms were renumbered, so platform 1 and platform 2 are now platform 21 and 22, the Löwenstrasse station platforms 31 to 34, and the original S-Bahn station towards the National Museum, are called platforms 41 to 44, when they used to be 21 to 24 when first opened. Sigh, you have to admire the progress that Switzerland went through during 20+ years...... I think I boarded a 11:35 AM S-10 train to Üetliberg that did not terminate at Triemli (had that happen to me in July 1998). I remember passing by the Giesshübel station about 11:41 AM. So far there was no sign of any significant snow, and the skies were mostly clear, though the air was chilly, maybe mid 40s or +4 to +6 Celsius. After the train passed Uitikon, the snow was starting to show up.

By the time I reached Üetliberg, there was about six inches of snow almost everywhere, tracks visible but sleepers covered. It was 11:58 AM when I stepped out of the train, and some of the snow had started to melt, so I had to watch where I stepped. At Üetiberg they still have an axle with a cog, but the Üetlibergbahn S-10 line does not use any cog rail at all, and is billed as one of Switzerland's steepest rail lines that does not use either a cog or traction cable. Prior to 2016 I used to love to ride the fun roller slide where you use a hard V shaped coaster and the rollers have a ten foot decline with maybe three or four bends. I rode it the last time in September 2000, and made a video of it. I think it was dismantled in 2016 or earlier and replaced by a less entertaining set of stationary bicycles or similar.

It was getting close to 1 PM so I headed back down to where I could catch the tram line 7 to the hostel, get a fresh camera battery, and find a good place to view the Sechseläuten Parade. Somehow I walked to just outside the Münsterhof location of Leder Locher, and a band was practicing at 2:25 PM, about thirty people in total, and in Georgian / US Revolutionary period costume, though I could not tell you to what guild they belonged to. I remember there was a little girl about 5 or 6 years old with a Pooh Bear balloon. I walked to the Bahnhofstrasse, somewhere near the Bärengasse and watched the parade for an hour or so. There were many musicians from various guilds, and even the wine barrel making guild had an excellent percussion session. The baker guild threw bread rolls at the crowd.

At 5 PM I walked towards Bürkliplatz to cross eastwards to Bellevueplatz so that I could have a good view of the Böögg. I found some place where I could see the "Neue Zürcher Zeitung" corporate sign. I think I was about a hundred feet away, and could see about fifteen feet of firewood as well as the Böögg itself. I had a nice view, and was getting very excited for 6 PM to ring. By then, the cavalry was circled around the bonfire.

It eventually turned 6 PM. The time had come to start the bonfire. Unfortunately it was getting cloudy and colder, upper 30s, or maybe +3 to +5 C. What is important to note about the bonfire, is how long it takes, from exactly 6 PM to when the Böögg's head explodes with the explosives. If the fire takes less than ten minutes for the Böögg's head to explode, then it will be a good summer in Zürich. Otherwise it may be a chilly one (e.g. 1997 and 2017 from what I remember, temperatures below normal and precipitation above normal). On 23 April 2001, it took a while. Even by 6:10 PM, the flames had not even made it halfway up to the Böögg. Fuel had to be put on the fire as it was going out. About 6:20 PM, the flames made it to the Böögg's feet and explosives started to pop. The Böögg's textile skin started burning and more explosives went off. It is not over until its head completely disappears. The next five minutes would be suspenseful. About 6:27 PM the Böögg was reduced to his head and a wooden frame where his "body" used to be. And right as my video camera's clock said 6:28 PM, I caught an explosion that was about five times the size of the Böögg's head. The crowd, of maybe 10,000 people at the time, cheered, and the head guild's band played a victory song. At 6:29 PM, all that was left on the bonfire, was a wooden frame and where the head used to be, just a charred out 2 by 4. According to the head guild, Sechseläuten 2001 was declared "mission accomplished".

After such excitement, I thought I should do the cable car rotation, namely the Polybahn and Rigiblickbahn, that I remember riding in 1997, 1998 and 2000. Then I would come back by tram lines 5 or 6. From Bellevueplatz, I walked to Central, the lower station of the Polybahn. If you have heard of ETH Zürich, that is the upper station of the Polybahn. My prior ride on it was on Friday the 24th July 1998 with my striped top hat, and I took a selfie about 3:30 PM that day. The Polybahn was still operating at 6:55 PM so I took it up to ETH Zürich, and managed to watch the other car go down to Central. I took the next tram from the ETH/Universitätsspital three stops to Seilbahn Rigiblick, and around 7:10 PM I took the cable car up to the upper station. The Seilbahn Rigiblick is automated kind of like an inclinator at the Luxor hotel in Las Vegas. You pick your station, Goldauer Strasse, Hadlaubstrasse, Germaniastrasse and Rigiblick, then it makes the appropriate stop. It was built so well, that if both cars stopped along the way, you would be at any one of the stops (Goldauer Strasse for one and Germania Strasse for the other). I was at the top station, and there was a bus line 39 to Im Klösterli near the zoo. Interestingly enough, for those who like James Joyce's literature, he is buried close by at the Fluntern cemetery. I thought about eating at the Klösterli restaurant, but I took a pass after looking at the dinner prices so I went back to Niederdorferstrasse by tram line 6, where I know that prices are more reasonable. By then it was about 7:45 PM and the sun was about to set. The tram did pass Toblerplatz, for which there is a famous triangular chocolate bar named after it. Also the trolleybus line 33 terminates there, still does after part of its route was cut back and replaced years later with line 72, also a trolleybus line.

I ended up back at the ETH/Universitätsspital tram stop, took the Polybahn down to Central, and looked for my favorite restaurant to eat supper at. In April 2001 I did not know of Bierhalle Wolf, that I more frequently visit since 2011, so I did not go there then. Instead I went to the Brasserie Johanniter on Niederdorferstrasse 70, had a seat inside, and started off with a liter of Hürlimann Lager. The last time I ate at Johanniter, I had their Graubündner Spätzle with ham, cheese and onions, and luckily it was still on the menu. It was priced 20 Francs. I think 2002 it was withdrawn and the only Spätzle they serve anymore is in the vegetarian style. I had someone share my table, and we had a conversation, not very deep. After paying our respective tabs, we went on our ways. I went back to Bellevueplatz to see what remained, if anything, of the Böögg, and there was still the skeleton that I remember from 6:29 PM. So I went back to the hostel to sleep, as tomorrow would be a travel day to Bern.

Please join me as tomorrow I will see two new cantons, one of which has two half-cantons. Then we will see a new astrological clock similar to the one in Prague, and not too far from the Bundeshaus. See you then.

Auf wiederluege! Au revoir! Arrivederci! Goodbye!

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