#the title ‘mr impossible’ actually refers to how it feels to deal with him as a person

[crispycostumes]

this is the funniest he’s ever been

[likehandlingroses]

“Realistic” Tom/Thomas Relationship Timeline

The S3/S4 Tom/Thomas affair is a theory that has been making its way around lately, and it is centered around the contrast in the interactions between Thomas and Tom during the Season 3 Christmas Special and their interactions in the Season 4 Christmas Special. 

This means that usually the start of the relationship is viewed as coinciding with the immediate aftermath of Matthew’s death, which occurs in the Christmas Special of Season 3 (September 1921). Due to the interactions between Tom and Thomas in the Christmas Special of Season 4, the relationship can almost certainly be considered over by that time (May-ish of 1923). But what happened in between, and how long were they actually together? There’s one view that the affair occurs in between Seasons 3 and 4, which means that at the very longest they lasted just under six months (generally I think this view cuts it even shorter than that)...but this leaves some unanswered questions and some peculiarities, so I took another look at the canon to determine when, in fact, Thomas and Tom broke up.

(Note: I definitely know that Julian Fellowes did not intend for them to be having an affair, but also Julian if I’m right just DM me)

Let’s start with what we know about September 1921 and May 1923—the definite before and after points—for reference:

Christmas Special Season 3—September, 1921

In this Christmas special, we see Tom left behind while the rest of the family goes to Duneagle, and we see Thomas still dealing with the Jimmy situation a year after its apparent resolution. On its face, this episode features Tom being challenged in his new role in the house—and being encouraged to step up and face that role—and Thomas finding a way to resolve things with Jimmy.

Except there’s a whole lot of other stuff going on in the periphery of those stories: Tom knows that Jimmy is bothering Thomas and appears to want to intervene at the fair, but he is stopped by Edna, who at one point uses Thomas’s injuries as an excuse to visit Tom and assure him that Thomas is “feeling much better.” And—of course—there’s the fact that Tom and Thomas hug at the fair (and lest you think this was a RJC/Allen Leech moment not caught by editing, it was in multiple takes! Someone—multiple someones actually—included it on purpose). They are friendly, aware of each other, and to be honest it isn’t impossible to argue that maybe the relationship predates Matthew’s death! I’m going to argue otherwise, however, based on how Tom breaks down when Edna kisses him—I think Edna is the first time he’s even really thought of himself in romantic terms for a long time! But Thomas is right there in the wings, and he just finally made some progress on the emotional problem that’s been plaguing him for over a year!

It’s a big difference from what we see in the next Christmas special, big enough to start the theory of the affair in the first place...

Season 4 Christmas Special—Summer 1923

Once again, Tom is left alone at Downton while the rest of the family goes to London...and the difference in how Thomas responds is striking. He’s furious at having to wait on Tom, for reasons both we and the characters cannot quite understand. The excuses don’t add up—at this point, Tom has been living at Downton for three YEARS, and this has never been a problem before. Now all of a sudden Thomas is slamming trays and clenching his fists and provoking Tom into admitting that he sees himself as Above sitting next to him...what?

Then there’s Sarah Bunting, a Miss Sarah Bunting...whose presence infuriates Thomas while also making him eager to use her as a way to embarrass Tom. And Tom knows it, immediately. He’s embarrassed, he’s uncomfortable, but still he’s quick to pull rank with Thomas when challenged. Something has fundamentally altered the way they interact with and perceive each other while sharing the same space.

All of this speaks to a breakup, and a messy one at that...so with the knowledge we have, WHAT exactly happened between September of 1921 and May of 1923? Let’s look at what Season 4 has to say:

4.1/4.2–February, 1922

“That’s right: it’s Valentine’s Day.” 

This is an important piece of the puzzle, because Thomas—Nanny West drama aside—is in a pretty good mood for the Valentine’s Day episode! He engages with Daisy and Jimmy’s Valentine’s card drama with good humor and even some genuine interest...something I do not believe he’d do if he’d only recently been broken up with, and by someone who lived in the house! The big one here, though, is the dialogue Thomas has with Nanny West in which she calls him “Thomas” and he says, “that’s Mr. Barrow to you...”

Now, where did Nanny West hear him referred to as Thomas? The episode makes a point of the fact that nannies do not as a rule spend much time with the downstairs staff—and even if they did, not many of the downstairs crew call Thomas “Thomas” on a regular basis. Nor do the upstairs folks...with one notable exception. Tom, who has to be reminded by Thomas in 4.3 to address him as “Barrow” (more on that later), routinely messes up names and titles.

To me, this suggests that Tom and Thomas are still talking, and it’s pretty clear from Thomas’s attentions to Sybbie in the episode that it would have been easy for Nanny West to overhear it in that context. Now, this doesn’t necessarily mean that they’re still seeing each romantically, but the “Mr. Barrow TO YOU” element implies that the correction was NOT made to whoever Nanny West heard using the name (we presume it’s Tom)...and the distinction is that Nanny West does not *get* to call him that! It definitely seems like whoever she grabbed the name from has been granted permission to do that, and she Has Not. And if it’s Tom...well.

So does that mean that Thomas and Tom were done by 4.3, when Thomas DOES correct Tom on his title? Not exactly...

4.3/4.4–The House Party (pre July 1922)

(tw on this section for discussions involving sexual assault)

The party features Edna’s schemes and assault on Tom in order to extract a promise of marriage from him. It also features a Tom who is incredibly vulnerable and entirely out of his element with the introduction of the Crawley’s friends. This is somewhat of a contrast from the Tom of the first two episodes, who stands up to Robert several times to intervene on Mary’s behalf, and even ropes Carson into the mission. It feels, for a moment, that despite Matthew’s death Tom has taken up the challenge presented to him at the end of Season 3 and begun seeing himself as a valuable, contributing member of the household and family.

But here, Tom speaks of himself as a fool, as walking a tightrope, and of not being understood. He relies on alcohol to get through the event, which Edna takes advantage of—and which gives us a Tom/Thomas interaction that speaks to, in my opinion, a continuing relationship (although perhaps an altering one):

Now, if I had to guess, I would say that Tom might be less *keen* than usual, given his overall demeanor and the new scrutiny placed on him by Edna coming back to the house (not to mention the house party itself). It’s very possible there’s been a lull between the two of them as of late. I do not believe, however, that there is evidence of a clear break between Tom and Thomas as of the house party.

For one, Tom doesn’t just say the wrong thing when addressing Thomas in the drawing room—he says, “Thomas, would you get me a drink for God’s sake?” That is Not how he talks to him in the Christmas Special, where he is stilted and uncomfortable and concerned about how the words will be taken. He isn’t worried about any of that, and while Thomas corrects him, he doesn’t seem all that bothered by it. Tom’s look of irritation at the correction isn’t overdone either.

“It’s Barrow now,” also has flexible meanings. Of course it literally is what Tom is supposed to call him now...but “now” seems like a weird word to use when it’s been what Thomas is meant to be called for several years. It could be a post-breakup smackdown, but we’ve seen what those look like in the Christmas Special, and this doesn’t feel like that! I believe, rather, that Thomas is making reference to the fact that it is incorrect at that moment, something Tom should know and has been discussed!!!

The house party has both of them overworked and tense (this is also the time where Thomas has to fill in for Jimmy because Jimmy hurt his hand...which is SO ridiculous if you think about it for more than two seconds), but Edna’s transgression still draws Thomas’s attention

And that’s important! Thomas had been friends with Edna until this point, largely for convenience it seems—she is a new lady’s maid, and she can feed him information. Thomas even worked with her to mess with Anna, who had earlier made a comment to Edna about his intentions in befriending her. There’s a bond forming there, and while I don’t believe Thomas would genuinely support the literal details of Edna’s plot, I don’t think it’s a foregone conclusion that he would be Opposed to Edna taking advantage of what she would frame as an indiscretion on Tom’s part. Not if he disliked Tom or was predisposed to believe Tom was at fault (ie: someone who expects to be “waited on Hand and Foot while he decides what Might Please Him Next”).

But right away, Thomas is suspicious the morning after. We see Thomas spying on Edna as she corners Tom, and he specifically brings it up to her later to catch her out. Already his tone is soured where she’s concerned. He’s sensed she’s up to something and he can probably guess the vague idea if not the particulars...and it turns him against her almost instinctively.

So what’s that about? Could it just be jealousy? The thing is, we know what Thomas would do if he believed that Edna and Tom were simply having an affair—we see what happens in the S4 Christmas Special with Sarah Bunting. This isn’t like that at all. 

Thomas immediately blames Edna for what’s happened, calling her a manipulative little witch and declaring that he’s delighted her plans didn’t work. There’s no question of Thomas’s loyalties, even though Edna assumes he’ll want to “keep in with” her. Not for one second does he appear to consider this, and that seems to distinguish this incident from later ones.

4.5/4.6–What Are These Episodes (pre-July 1922)

There isn’t a lot to remember about these episodes for Tom or Thomas, and so what people may not remember is that these are the episodes Tom starts floating the idea of leaving for America—a full season before he tries starting that conversation again, and over two years before he actually DOES temporarily move to Boston. Now, that kind of decision takes time, but it’s kind of...strange that he begins making it here in the spring of 1922 and will not seriously consider it again until well into 1924!

Whether this has anything at all to do with Thomas can’t be determined, but I do enjoy hearing Tom say it will be impossible for him to marry anyone at Downton because an upper class woman won’t have him, and would an “nice Irish working class girl” make everyone “comfy?”...and Thomas is standing Right There! What does it mean...

Thomas is also getting more paranoid, he’s got Baxter in the house feeding him information...and he’s generally giving off a different vibe than he has all season. 

Here is where I think the connection is starting to see some serious cracks—Tom is realizing he doesn’t belong and is making moves to change that. Meanwhile, Thomas is making moves to ensure Nothing Ever changes without him knowing about it ahead of time! Tension abounds, though we don’t see any evidence of it being directed at each other just yet...

4.7/4.8–Interesting and Modern (July 1922)

Thomas goes to America and Tom meets Miss Bunting...weird how that just happened like that!

Thomas is excited to go to New York, and it seems...pretty clear he fucked while he was there. I think if you’re gay and you go to New York in the 1920s and you come back and all you can tell your coworkers is that it was “interesting and modern” you definitely were not doing anything you can actually talk about

Now, that doesn’t necessarily mean that he and Tom are Done (they may not have ever been exclusive on paper), but the overall feeling from Tom is a dejected man in limbo...he can’t even say he’s a Socialist anymore. It’s not going well. So my inclination is to say that Tom hit pause (maybe not for the first time), and Thomas is dealing with it by getting some in New York (great!) and bullying his coworkers (bad!) So why do I think they weren’t totally done at that time? Because these episodes happen in the summer of 1922...the Christmas Special for S4 takes place in May of 1923. That’s a long time to have passed! A long time for Tom to keep Miss Bunting at arm’s length, a long time for Thomas to be fuming over something...I believe that in the Christmas Special what we are seeing is the last stand of two people who are grappling with finally cutting a fraying thread.

Another Look At The S4 Christmas Special

These scenes are truly some of the most incomprehensible things Downton Abbey ever presented to us with virtually no explanation.  So let’s take another look at what’s happening here.  

First of all, we have the scene with Tom and Thomas entering the house after sending Edith off and leaving Tom offically on his own--they don’t appear openly hostile, though there’s some tense looking when the other person isn’t and looking back down again when they are energy...but nothing egregious. 

Not until we see Thomas slam down a tray, that is. In fact, this whole thing seems to be coming from Thomas’s anger, while Tom appears eager to just smooth it over by not causing trouble and following the rules set forth by the household norms. This seems in line with Tom’s general dispositon--with both Edna and Miss Bunting he tries to ease out rather than break things off. 

 But Thomas interprets this as dismissive, and while he says to Ivy it’s about their positions in the house...as discussed above this really doesn’t logically check out. I do think it irritates him that Tom is essentially avoiding Thomas because it’s what “pleases him,” but it runs deeper than “he used to be the chauffeur.” Because that was always the case. 

And then Tom brings Miss Bunting back without telling anyone, and he takes her upstairs. And this makes Thomas INSANE, and Tom knows IMMEDIATELY that it will! And Tom is eager to assure “Mr. Barrow” that nothing happened (actually, what he’s really eager to do is have Thomas not stand there while he eats, but Thomas is not budging). 

Thomas is furious. He’s said to Ivy that he is SICK of this man, he’s tired of dealing with him...and then he tries to get Tom to sit next to him the car? 

Thomas stole a dog one time, and I still think this might be his wildest attempt at controlling a situation we see on the show. What is going on? If Tom HAD let him sit in the back, would Thomas have still gone to Lord Grantham about Miss Bunting? If Thomas hadn’t been such a jerk about Miss Bunting, would Tom have LET him? What is poor Ivy even processing this as? Am I the only one hearing Taylor Swift’s Better Than Revenge playing? 

Thomas acts immediately on coming to London, dropping the line of “Mr. Branson is stil a young man, and he can’t be expected to stay single forever”...he’s Angry Angry!! If they were on a break before, I don’t think it had fully set in for Thomas that it might be Permanent until now. And I think Tom’s newly avoidant personality we see in other scenarios gave him the wrong impression in this respect.

In Summary

I think that the relationship was relatively “on” from the period of September 1921 through whenever the house party took place. The house party caused some huge issues, mostly for Tom (understandably)—he may have unfairly blamed himself for what happened and drew wrongful parallels to what’s happening with Thomas. I think that after that it was very “off,” but I believe that neither Thomas nor Tom really committed to ending it either...and when we see them in 1923 they are in the peak stages of finally facing the end of things.

So what caused the final shift? Perhaps Thomas came back from New York with expectations, expectations Tom found himself intimidated by. Perhaps Thomas’s increasing paranoia and Tom’s growing agnosticism towards his own beliefs and identity are related and fed off of each other until they both just did not like the person they were seeing! Maybe it’s just that Downton Abbey is a really bad place for both of them, and even though they started off trying to protect each other from that, they got sucked in and turned on each other!

In any case, by Season 5 the romantic relationship appears over for good, though there is some evidence in later episodes that Tom and Thomas settled down a bit over time (Thomas defending Tom in S5 at Brancaster, and Tom saying he hates goodbyes in reference to Thomas). 

We will just have to see what happens when they realize they both are dating someone new, and they work together too :) 

[purplesurveys]

1127

1. What is one thing you will never do again? Watch The Hours. Film itself is great, but is way too triggering.

2. Would you rather be twice as smart or twice as happy? I’d take happiness easily. It’s not bad for the most part to make mistakes and I’d rather be too clumsy than be altogether miserable.

3. What happened the last time you cried? It was the day of what would’ve been our anniversary and at that moment I was alone in my car at a parking lot (waiting for the office to open) on a gloomy day. I just had to cry and let my feelings out for like 5 minutes to accept everything but I was immediately fine afterwards, haha. Grief can be funny.

4. What happened the time in your life when you were the most nervous to do something? My first job interview. It was my first adult thing ever. They never got back to me - very professional of them - but I was still grateful for the experience nonetheless.

5. What would your parents be surprised to learn about you? That I was in a whole ass relationship for technically 6 1/2 years. They probably have an inkling by now, but only about me being in a relationship. I’m sure they would be very surprised if they ever found out how long it had actually gone for.

6. What’s your worst habit? I pick at my toenails when I’m nervous or stressed. I tend to do this when I’m doing a work task that I particularly dread, and sometimes I’ll end up being fixated on the habit for like 10 minutes straight and not get anything done.

7. What superpower would you have for one day? Time travel, just to take quick trips to multiple decades and see how life was like during those times.

8. What fictional character do you have the biggest crush on? Matty from 13 Going on 30 would be one of them. Albert Finney’s character in Two for the Road is also charming as fuck.

9. Where would you live if you could live anywhere in the world? If money wasn’t an issue, probably somewhere cozy in like Switzerland or Canada.

10. What is your most bizarre pet peeve? Not necessarily a pet peeve but I get extremely uncomfortable when someone hands me a gift then they insult the gift while in front of me, saying it’s not a great gift or that I probably don’t need it, etc. Filipinos also have this habit of saying something along the lines of, “You earn way more than me so you’d probably think this gift sucks” like how do you want me to react :(((((( I love receiving gifts and the idea of being thought about already means a lot to me, so it just makes me wince a little bit when I hear statements like the above.

11. Who knows you the best? Gabie, probably. I’ve changed a lot since then, though.

12. What after school activities did you do in high school? Clubs were mandatory extracurricular activities in my high school; in my time, I joined the table tennis and yearbook clubs.

13. What “most likely to” superlative would you be most honored to receive? Idk, we didn’t have those in school. I probably would have been honored to get a journalism-themed one though; something like Most Likely To Write for NYT or Most Likely to Win a Pulitzer or something like that. Obviously that’s changed now and I’ve long let go of journalism as a passion.

14. What’s the last book you really loved? I haven’t read in a long, long while.

15. What was the greatest television show of all time? I don’t watch a lot of TV so I’m not the most credible decision-making body for this lol, but out of all the shows I’ve watched the best one would easily be Breaking Bad.

16. What’s been your favorite age so far? 16. Life was insanely easygoing back then and everything fell into place for me at the time.

17. If you could go back in time, what is one piece of advice you would give your younger self? Know when it’s enough. Be kind to yourself.

18. What one thing would you be most disappointed if you never got to experience it? Have kids.

19. Apologize or ask permission? I don’t understand the relationship between the two.

20. Unlimited love or money? I would love to never have to worry about finances ever again.

21. If you knew you would die in one week, what would you do? Take a week-long leave for work, spend all my money, bond with my dogs, throw a party for my closest friends, and honestly, make my peace with her.

22. What’s your most listened to song? Spotify doesn’t show that feature, but I bet it’s from Paramore or Hayley anyway. It would be impossible to know my most-listened to song of all time, like if we took into account my Spotify, iTunes, etc.

23. Beach vacation or European vacation? I need a beach vacation badly, but a European vacation would be a new and different experience. I’d take the latter.

24. If you could have been a child prodigy what would you have wanted to be skilled at? Playing the piano.

25. What’s the first thing you would do if you won the lottery? Depends on how much I won lmao. I’d probably retire this early if the money was big enough since I’m pretty stingy anyway. But generally, I would like to pay off whatever bills my parents are currently paying for, get back the car that we had to sell because of the pandemic, and maybe go for a solo vacation or five heheh.

26. What celebrity would you trade lives with? Kylie Jenner, for a day. Just so I can briefly have a taste of how being that rich is like.

27. If you were a performing artist, what would you title your first album? Nope.

28. What story do your friends still give you crap about? Staying with Gab despite the red flags that glared for four whole years is one of them. Angela will also never let go of that one time I tried some kind of fruit juice in high school and I described it as ‘packs a punch.’ It’s understood as a super Westernized idiom where I live and literally no one uses it in a casual sentence, so it was a hit with her and now we use ‘packs a punch’ whenever we want to describe something awesome or surprising.

29. If earth could only have one condiment for the rest of time, what would you pick to keep around? Mayonnaise and I will die on this mayonnaise-coated hill.

30. What is the ideal number of people to have over on a Friday night? Ideally? At this point? Like 20. I would love for that to be the case on the first Friday we can consider the Philippines COVID-free.

31. What was the worst age you’ve been so far? Sorry for yet another incoming Paramore reference but they literally have a lyric that goes, “22 is like, the worst idea that I have ever had.” Before turning 22 I used to think it was a weird line, like how could 22 possibly be unenjoyable? Now I’m 22 in a pandemic going through a rough breakup and I can’t even see my friends nor work in my first workplace ever.

32. What is your weirdest dealbreaker? If they wanted only cats as pets. I can deal with a dog and a cat, I guess; but cats were never fond of me so I feel like I’d struggle with this situation lol.

33. What fictional character reminds you most of yourself? Mr. Peanutbutterrrrrrr. Has a lot of love to give, doesn’t always use it on the right people. Also lives on pleasing others.

34. Do you believe in karma? Just to a tiny extent, in how I would want people’s awful actions to come bite them in the ass one day. It’s not a philosophy that controls my life and the things I do whatsoever.

35. What was your favorite TV show as a kid? My absolute favorite was Hi-5, with the original cast. As I got older my interests shifted to Spongebob and The Fairly OddParents.

36. What is the weirdest thing you find attractive in a person? I don’t think it’s weird, but I don’t hear thighs too often when people list down their favorite physical traits. It’s certainly one of mine.

37. What Jeopardy! category would you clear, no problem? A Friends-themed one, obviously. This reminds me of the Jeopardy night I had with some friends a few nights ago! That was so much fun, and Andi makes really great and fun questions hahaha.

38. What is something you’re superstitious about? I don’t think I am about anything.

39. What is the scariest experience you have ever had? Maybe that night my grandpa went into a drunk rampage. I was 9, right in his line of sight, frozen and scared shitless, and I didn’t know who he was going to strike next.

40. Who is a non-politician you wish would run for office? I never really think about this. If someone’s a non-politician then there must be a reason they aren’t, lol.

41. What cheesey song do you have memorized? Little Things by One Direction is very cheesy and it’s one of my least favorite songs of theirs, but I still have it memorized out of habit.

42. What one dead person would you most like to have dinner with, if it were possible? My great-grandpa died all the way back in the 70s, even before some of my aunts and uncles could meet him. It would be cool to spend time with him.

43. Do you think it’s important to stay up to date with the news? Yeah, absolutely. I have the stomach for it lol, so I always monitor what’s happening locally and globally. Skipping the news from time to time is fine because I get how anxiety-inducing and depressing some events can be, but there’s a huge difference between ignoring the news for your mental health and being indifferent altogether. I’d immediately judge anyone who’s the latter, and would assume you are incredibly privileged.

44. What is the best present you could ever receive? My money refunded -____________- I had food delivered to my director, Bea’s house as a surprise earlier today, but apparently I ran into a scammer driver and the fucker drove away with the meal I had bought for Bea. I reported the driver and the situation, and thankfully the customer service rep of the food delivery app quickly responded and said they’d return the full amount I paid for; but I still haven’t received it.

45. Would you give up one of your fingers if it meant you’d have free wifi wherever you go, for the rest of your life? No. Mobile data exists for a reason.

46. What’s the first thing you’d do if you were the opposite sex for one day? Check out my voice.

47. If someone told you you could give one person a present and your budget was unlimited–what present would you get and for whom? I’d love to surprise Angela with an overseas trip that would last for like a month. Traveling is one thing we have yet to do as best friends.

48. What is the nicest thing someone could say about you? Nothing particular, but it makes me happy when people call me strong and when they validate the shit I’ve gone through over the years.

49. Giant house in a subdivision or tiny house somewhere with a view? I would take the giant house. When it comes to my own place, I would want to have a lot of space to roam around.

50. What is the weirdest quirk your family has? Nothing is coming to mind.

[izaswritings]

all that’s left in the world | chapter five

Title: all that’s left in the world—

Synopsis: —is me.

Neku’s been shot and Shibuya is threatening to go the same way as Shinjuku, but just because the first Game is over doesn’t mean they’ve forgotten how to play.

Or: Neku deals with a nightmare city and his most annoying (and mathematical) partner yet; Shiki and Joshua commit an escalating number of illegal moves, Beat and Eri hunt down a stray Reaper, and Rhyme watches and waits for the counter-attack. Shibuya refuses to go down easy.

Fandom: The World Ends With You | TWEWY

Warnings: references to past canonical character death, self-esteem issues, vague descriptions of an apocalyptic event (Shinjuku at the moment of Inversion, etc), and Joshua, again. Please let me know if there’s anything I missed.

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AO3 Link is here!

Previous chapters are here!

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part five: joshua

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Joshua opens his eyes to a wasteland.

Beside him Shiki Misaki has fallen to her knees in the dust and dirt, hacking up half a lung; Joshua politely gives her a moment to collect herself like the very considerate and understanding person he is, and steps forward, scanning their surroundings with a frown. Empty streets filled with white dust that clings to his hand like snow; the air smells of nothing, devoid even of the stench of smoke. A low fog has settled over the city, so gray and dense it could be mistaken for a storm, the buildings vacant shells and the roads worn smooth and featureless. It’s more than a ghost town—it’s a city hollowed, its heart destroyed, and Joshua frowns momentarily, picking up his phone, fiddling with the settings.

For the first time, no call goes through. “Interesting,” Joshua decides, and tugs at one lock of hair, twining the strand around his finger.

“W-what is?” Shiki asks, and Joshua tilts his head and snaps his phone closed. Her breath catches. Ah, she’s noticed the city. “Where are we?”

“Shinjuku, I believe,” Joshua says, and even though he’d guessed as much the sight makes him frown, disgruntled. Joshua’s always liked a good Game, but this one promises to try his patience. “Well. What’s left of it, anyway.”

Her eyes scan the wasteland, expression faltering. “That’s impossible,” she says, though she seems half-convinced already. Quick to adapt, isn’t she? Maybe this partnership 2.0 won’t be so boring after all. “That’s... how could this be Shinjuku?”

“Inversion,” Joshua sighs, and when Shiki’s brow furrows at the term he giggles and waves his hand. “A UG phrase. The RG and UG have merged here. The planes have gotten all tangled together—too many frequencies at once.” And, actually, liable to give Joshua a headache. He misses Shibuya’s song already. Ironic, considering his plans for it just last month. “Noise manifest in the RG, reality gets unstable...”

She’s pale. “And this is where Neku is?”

“Mm-hmm.” Joshua shrugs. “Unfortunate, isn’t it?”

“Yeah...” Joshua blinks at her, but Shiki has already stepped away, looking up and down the empty street. “I don’t understand. Where are all the people? And the stores...” She peers into a shop window and blinks fast. “Huh?”

“Oh?” Joshua steps up beside her, peering through the window, and then leans back, hands in his pockets and eyebrows raised. “My, my. That’s certainly something.”

The shop is empty. Not just devoid of people, but of anything—the mannequins stripped featureless and bare, even the fake features wiped away. The hangers hold nothing. The stands are empty. Even the picture frames on the wall, the art and decor put up just for flavor, have become hollow, the frames undecorated, the pictures turned to white noise.

Joshua lifts his hand, curious, and presses it against the glass. Against the blank slate of the store, he and Shiki and the colors they wear seem almost like a spotlight. Shinjuku is grey and cold around them, featureless and repetitive. Scrubbed clean of any life at all.

Joshua takes his hand back, frowning outright now. “Hm.”

“That’s so creepy,” Shiki says, drawing back a step. She shivers. “It’s like... anything that would have stood out, or anything that would have meant something...”

“A clean slate,” Joshua agrees, and rests his chin in his hand, thoughtful.

Shiki looks away, apparently unable to keep looking into the empty shop for long. “Is this... normal?” she asks, squinting up at the sky, like if she tries hard enough she’ll be able to see the sun. “For, uh... Inversions?”

Joshua giggles. “I have no idea.” It’d be a delightful mystery, if the situation weren’t so dire. He sobers. “This is the first time I’ve seen it myself. Though, I will admit...” He casts a glance at the sky, too. His eyes narrow. For a moment, there in the clouds... hm. “This doesn’t quite match up with the stories I’ve heard.”

“Creepy,” Shiki repeats.

“Quite.”

She rubs at her arms. “...Let’s go look for Neku.”

Ah, yes. Neku.

Joshua looks back at the shop, no longer smiling. His reflection in the display glass is pale and dim, faintly opaque. As if he isn’t quite there at all. He rubs at his arm, and wonders what Shiki would say if he told her Composers weren’t meant to stay outside of Their city.

Well, what’s done is done—he’s agreed to this, after all, and her reaction probably won’t be all that entertaining. Shiki Misaki, Joshua thinks, is too accepting. Adaptable to an annoying degree. At least Neku had a few moments of wanting to strangle someone before he compromised.

How funny, he thinks. The memory almost makes him want to smile, except he doesn’t feel like laughing at all.

In the dusty glass of the shop window, his own expression looks strange to him. Joshua turns away. He shakes his head and tugs at one bang, then drops his hand and sighs. “Yes,” he says, light. “Works for me. Lead the way, dear.”

She frowns at him, and he smiles back at her uncertain side-eye. And as Shiki picks her way across the city, and Joshua trails after her, he curls his hands to a careful fist, feeling the quiet tremor in his fingers with every step away from Shibuya, and cheerfully pretends that it hasn’t started after all.

.

It doesn’t take long for the first problem to rear its head. Ten minutes into the Game, Joshua and Shiki encounter their first Noise—and unlike how Noise are supposed to act, this one attacks on sight.

Joshua would suspect Taboo Noise, but no: normal Noise, just ten times more bloodthirsty. Shinjuku is getting more bothersome by the minute.

It takes a moment for them to work together—Joshua is back to summoning beams of light from his cellphone; Shiki apparently likes using her stuffed animal to rip the opposing side to shreds—but in the end, they sync up rather well, if Joshua is any judge. The Noise are nothing but static by the end. Joshua is half-way pleased. He’s missed this.

Shiki doesn’t look nearly so happy, however. At the end of their most recent battle, she kneels in the dust with the cat toy in her lap, staring down at it almost despondently. Joshua weighs his options, sighs, and goes to stand over her shoulder.

“Is this going to be a problem?”

“Maybe.” She opens her hands, glumly; Joshua looks down and tilts his head. “I forgot. Mr. Mew has a ripped seam. He’s fine for me to carry him, but...”

On second look... Joshua can see it. He presses his lips. “I hope you don’t expect me to do all the work,” he warns, coolly. “I hate working up a sweat, and this endeavor was your idea, Shiki.”

If she’s bothered by the over-familiar use of her first name, it barely even seems to register. Then again, she did offer. “Maybe I could stitch him up?” she wonders. “But I don’t have the right thread... I was going to buy some tomorrow...”

Joshua frowns at her, but Shiki isn’t even looking at him, mumbling under her breath. After a moment, he sighs—and reaches out, picking away one of the pins she’s clipped to her cardigan. He turns it in his hands, thoughtful. “Do you have any idea how you control him?”

She glances at him, startled, then looks uncertain. “Eh...”

He giggles, and flashes the pin at her. “Groove Pawn,” he tells her. “It’s a form of psychokinesis. You didn’t know?”

“Really?” She glances at the stuffed toy in her hands. “It always felt more like Mr. Mew was just doing his own thing.”

Interesting. “Maybe so, but without you to provide guidance, it wouldn’t be nearly as effective. It could be that your familiarity with the medium creates a stronger control of it... less direct commands, and more obeying of the implied commands—what you know you need?” Joshua tugs at his hair. “Hmm. You made him, yes?”

“Mr. Mew?” She hugs the stuffed animal to her chest. “Yes. Why?”

Joshua’s getting an idea. He smiles. “And your clothes?”

“I made those too, but why...?” She trails off, eyes widening. “You think—?”

“Worth a shot, isn’t it?”

She studies her sleeves, frowning slightly, considering. “I don’t know...”

“Try it,” Joshua cajoles. “Your pins will work here. The one nice thing about the merge between planes is that the Noise frequency isn’t needed to activate the pins. Lucky you.” Which is perhaps the only advantage they have in all this. But, regardless.

Shiki looks uncertain, but one last glance at Mr. Mew and her jaw firms. “Okay. I’ll give it a shot.” She rises to her feet, hand outstretched, and takes a breath. “Here goes!”

Silence. Nothing happens.

Joshua spins a strand of hair between his fingers. “...Have you considered—”

Thread cuts through the air like a whistling blade. Shiki screams.

Joshua, for his part, blinks over at what used to be a wall, and whistles through his teeth. “Wow,” he says, honestly impressed. “That’s going to be incredibly useful. Nice to see that you can pull your own weight after all, hm?”

Shiki doesn’t appear to be listening, but then, that’s little surprise. Her cardigan has been unraveled up to her elbow; the loose thread of the sleeve has reached long past its actual length and cut apart the air, slipping through stone like a hot knife through ice.

It’s like a net, Joshua thinks, and circles her, intrigued. It really is something. If she concentrates the threads, and focuses the force onto one impact point, she could cut right through the core of a larger Noise. Even the net of thread could cut apart quite a few of the smaller Noise, too... my, he thinks. Could she catch one? Fascinating.

His musing gets cut off by the loud, creaking groan of breaking stone. Shiki’s eyes go wide. Joshua looks up, startled, and steps back just in time to avoid a bit of rubble falling on his foot, as the building Shiki hit creaks, tilts, sways, and then ultimately tips back and falls apart into a burst of dust and debris.

Silence. Joshua stares. The building just behind the first, now walled off with ruin, also creaks, and then caves inward with a crash.

“Oh my god,” Shiki says, eyes wide and horrified behind her glasses. “Is that okay!?”

“…It’s fine,” Joshua says. A beat. He considers the rubble. “Well, maybe.”

There’s another pause, almost thoughtful. A wall on a third building goes loose and spills out onto the road. In the distance there is the sound of falling rocks. A small pebble rolls from the pile, taps Shiki’s shoe, and then falls sadly on its side.

Shiki covers her face.

“Useful, anyhow,” Joshua decides.

“Maybe this was a bad idea…” Shiki sighs, rubbing at her face. Then she lifts up her head— and at last seems to get a full look at her unraveled cardigan, because she blanches, and holds out her arms in horror. “Oh, no, my sleeve! I spent days on this!”

“I’m sure you can put it back.”

“Oh, you think?” She takes a breath, focusing again, and Joshua watches with interest as the thread pries loose from the rubble pile, pooling together and re-weaving back into the cardigan. Shiki peeks one eye open. “Did it work?” Pause. “It worked!”

Joshua claps for her. “Well done.”

She beams, then seems to remember who she’s smiling at and visibly falters. Joshua giggles at her. What a face!

“Um, thanks.”

“No problem at all.”

She tucks the stuffed cat in her arms, hugging it close as if in comfort, staring down at the ground. She bites her lip, then shakes her head and exhales hard. “I… never mind. I guess we should keep moving.”

He gestures. She looks at him for a very long moment, then nods and takes the lead, walking down into a small back-alley street.

Joshua follows leisurely behind her, one hand in his pocket and the other fiddling with his phone. He tries to place another call, but isn’t surprised when it fails once again. Well, he’s glad to still have the camera, at least, though he’ll have to be careful of its use. If he could find Shinjuku’s Room of Reckoning… though unfortunately, he has no idea where the Composer of Shinjuku might be located.

Hm.

He fiddles with it some more, as they walk, and the rest of the day passes by in routine—travel, fight the Noise that converge on them, move on. Joshua gets more in-tune with this new partner, and finds to some delight that their attacks mix well. Shiki is focused, direct, and methodical, as expected of her talent as a seamstress; she attacks her enemies one hit at a time until it falls, and then moves on to the next. Matched with Joshua’s habit of just blasting a general area and catching as many Noise as possible in the light, it covers a lot of ground. He flattens the ones he can without frying his phone—and she, in turn, picks off the stragglers.

After one such battle, Joshua touches to the ground and turns to smile at her, far more genuinely than before. He can say this for Shiki Misaki— in addition to being a living wrench in the works of Joshua’s plan, she’s also just a genuinely talented Player.

“This might just work,” he tells her, cheery, and toes a line in the soft dusting of ash lining Shinjuku’s streets. “I’ll admit, I had my doubts.”

She glances back at him, looking more confused than offended. “Then... why did you agree?”

“Hm.” Joshua tilts his head. “Why indeed?”

Silence, for a moment. Shiki’s expression flattens a little. “Okay. So you’re not going to tell me.”

It’s a little cruel, maybe, but this girl’s already thrown the first stone, back in the Shibuya River; really, this should be expected. “What makes you think you deserve the answer?”

His word choice is deliberate, and Shiki, of all people, sensitive enough to catch the subtext—her steps stutter, and she tugs the stuffed cat closer. “I... I didn’t mean it like that.” She eyes him again. Her fingers tighten. “You’re rude.”

He shrugs. “It’s an honest question. Really, Shiki, you haven’t changed much at all, have you?” He eyes her. “Wanting recognition is all well and good, but don’t go expecting it from me.”

She falters, steps stuttering in the dust. Joshua keeps walking, humming lightly. She doesn’t follow. He turns around. “We don’t have much time to waste,” he chides. “If you could, Shiki...?”

“How did you know that?” Her voice is tight. “How did you—”

“Composer,” he reminds her. “It’s my Game. I put in the entry fee requirement in the first place, you know.” Not for the reasons she probably thinks, but then, Joshua’s never claimed to teach kind lessons. “And you were Neku—my proxy’s—partner. Of course I kept an eye out.”

“Of course,” she echoes, a little hollowly. “So—so you know...”

That she is jealous? That she wants to be more than herself? That Shiki Misaki wants to be popular, and important, and at the center of it all? That she wants so much for herself she came to seethe at others who she thought stood above her?

Joshua knows a lot of things people wish he didn’t know.

“I do, yes.” He considers her, and sighs a little. She’s stepped on his toes, so to speak, but Joshua can relent where need be. “If it’s any consolation, you have changed.” Neku’s choice hadn’t been the only factor influencing Joshua’s unintended change of heart regarding Shibuya, though Joshua is never going to admit that out loud. “If this Game had an entry fee, yours would no longer be yourself.”

Green is a good color for Shiki Misaki. She’s still envious, even now. But it doesn’t fester in her anymore. She has come to learn her own strengths, started to realize her own Imagination— the value of herself. And Joshua will never, ever say it aloud, but he can admire that, a little. If all the world is secret gardens, then hers is finally growing again, no longer crushed beneath her own heel.

Shiki looks down like she can’t decide whether to be happy or offended about his words. Joshua shrugs and turns away. “It would probably be that ‘friend’ of yours,” he continues knowingly, and grins, a little wry. “Or maybe Neku?” The idea of Coco’s plot getting upended by something as a simple as an entry fee makes him snicker. “What a plot twist that would be, hm?”

“W-what?” And then her head snaps up, eyes wide behind the lens. “Wait, oh my gosh—entry fees— I completely forgot—” She stops, and visibly rewinds the conversation in her head. “There isn’t one?”

“Thankfully.” People really aren’t meant to play the Game more than once; Joshua shudders to think how much of Shibuya would have vanished if Neku’s fee had been taken again. “It’s more than the RG and UG merge. Whatever Game we’re playing...”

Shiki looks stunned. “There’s no Reapers.”

“Did you just notice? Well, anyway. That’s right. No Reapers, no walls, no mission mail...” Joshua frowns a little. “I’m... a little uncertain if anyone’s in charge of this Game at all.”

“What about that Reaper girl? Coco?”

“Let me reword. No one official, at any rate.” He leaves it at that, but deep down, Joshua can’t deny he’s getting uneasy. There is too much off—too much lack. A Composer encroaching on another’s territory is a heinous crime, and bringing an illegal Player with him? Even with his powers limited by sheer virtue of being outside Shibuya, that should have warranted some interaction, if nothing else. But no— instead they have been walking undisturbed, the city silent as a grave.

The Music gone.

It’s as if there is no Composer at all, Joshua thinks, but then—how is that possible? If the Composer were killed, both power and title would transfer to the killer; if the Composer were captured... well, the city still wouldn’t be like this. The power would live on and the Music continue. But this... what has happened to Shinjuku...

For once, Joshua can honestly admit he has no idea what’s going on. It’s kind of annoying.

“Either way,” Joshua says, with finality. “It’s not for you to know.” He smiles at her. “May we get moving again?”

And just like that, her hackles are back up. Sigh. “I’m just trying to be nice!” she snaps back, fierce. “Though I’m not sure you deserve it.” Her voice lowers. “You’re as bad as Neku was. We’re partners.”

“That’s a bit rude,” Joshua says, amused.

“Still. We made a pact. You could at least act like it. We have to work together!”

Joshua stares at her, a little disgruntled; Shiki crosses her arms and tilts up her chin and glares right back. For a moment Joshua considers pushing the issue, or perhaps ignoring her and continuing on anyway... and then, just as quickly, his annoyance fades, dull and tired. Joshua looks away first.

Shiki Misaki, Neku’s first partner in the game. Neku has learned a lot from her. And Joshua, though he is still only just able to admit this to himself, has learned from Neku in turn.

Joshua sighs heavily, the sound as loud as he can make it, and lifts a hand to his hair, tugging at the strands. “Oh, fine,” he says, only a little sullen, because he has learned something from his time playing his own Game and to pretend otherwise is probably beneath him, or something. “If you really want to know, I’m beginning to suspect this Game doesn’t have a Composer at all.”

Shiki looks a little stunned. Possibly she never expected him to admit anything; Joshua tries not to feel too offended about that. After all, if this were a month ago, she’d be right. (If this were a month ago, he wouldn’t have accepted her deal in the first place— but that’s not important either.) “Oh,” she says. “...Oh. Someone—someone killed Shinjuku’s Composer?”

Joshua clicks his tongue. “Not quite,” he says. “Killing the Composer wouldn’t cause an Inversion. Neither,” he adds when Shiki opens her mouth, “would kidnapping, or anything else of the like. This city has no Music. It’s silent. It is…” And this Joshua doesn’t like to admit, because the very idea is enough to make his skin crawl, but it’s the truth: “It’s as if it has no Imagination at all.”

“Um,” Shiki says. “Which is... bad?”

“You remember that storefront?” he asks her. “Yes, it’s bad. Imagination is what the entire UG runs on.”

“Oh. Oh.”

“Exactly.” He huffs, irritated. “Unfortunately, whatever happened, I’m rather in the dark. This event has very thoroughly erased any clues left behind.”

Shiki frowns, looking thoughtful. “Is there a place for Shinjuku like there was for Shibuya? A river?”

“Of sorts. I don’t know where it is, though.” Unfortunately. Joshua likes mysteries, actually, but it’s a bit more fun when there’s actual clues to follow.

“I remember the Noise around the river were pretty strong. The station underpass in general, too. Like they were just drawn there…” Shiki holds the stuffed cat in both hands, looking down at it. It’s almost as if she expects the cat to talk back to her; Joshua stifles a grin. “I wonder if we could ride on them.”

Joshua blinks. Backtracks. “On. The Noise?”

She looks a little red, but shrugs. “I mean, could we?”

He almost laughs, but then he makes the mistake of thinking about it. With the thread… and, well, Joshua understands the Noise better than anyone else, so…

There’s a long pause. Joshua looks over to the Noise, far off down the street. He thinks about it some more. And it is with great regret when he says, at last: “Mm. Better not.”

Mr. H would never let him live it down. Also, less importantly, “While stronger Noise tend to gather around the Composer’s place, it’s not exactly a homing beacon. It won’t lead us to the Composer.”

Disappointing, though.

Shiki hums, but seems to accept that, tapping her finger to her chin. “Then maybe...” She trails off, brow furrowing. “If not the Composer, we could find where it all centered? Like the Inversion? It had to start somewhere, right...?”

She sounds uncertain, but Joshua straightens up. He’s not entirely sure the issue of Shinjuku’s Composer and the Inversion are so directly linked, but if one mystery can’t be solved, it stands to reason they should move on to the next. “It must have.” He tilts his head, then grins. “Ah-ha. I have an idea.”

“What is it?”

Joshua is already on his phone, flipping through the settings. When she approaches, he generously doesn’t shoo her off. “Here,” he says, and tilts the screen to her. The idea has emboldened him; his foot taps lightly on the ground. Finally, a place to start. He has no doubt they’ll run into Neku on the way there, if he gets this right. Neku usually finds himself in the center of a disaster. “A while back I had a few... adjustments made to my phone. I never did remove them. This camera can take pictures of the past.” He waves the phone at her, grinning outright now. “Pick a direction, dear.”

Behind her glasses, Shiki’s eyes are wide. She claps her hands in front of her face. “Oh! So if the Inversion started somewhere, we can see what direction it came from?”

Her excitement is rather charming. Neku never got nearly as involved in the everyday mysteries as Joshua did; this response feels pretty gratifying, honestly. “Exactly! I’m impressed.”

She giggles, a little. “This is so exciting. I feel like I’m in a detective movie.” She spins on her heel, stuffed cat swinging from one hand, finger tapping her chin. She points down a random street, a once-main road turned hollow. “How about there?”

“As good a place to start as any, I suppose.” Joshua snaps the photo—he already knows the time they need, thankfully. Shiki leans over his shoulder; Joshua eyes her briefly, then sighs and lets it go. He opens the photo.

Oh, how fun. White light, the buildings crumbling, terrified people beginning to fade out... but it is vague, source-less, and impossible to tell the direction from which it’s coming from.

Shiki blinks at it, though, her eyes flicking from photo to the ruins and back again. “Oh, I know that building! Isetan department store… I went with Eri once.” She frowns a little. “Hmm. So we’re near the station?”

“Valuable info, but not quite what we were looking for… Well, two more photos left.” Joshua tilts the camera. “Choose wisely.”

“Uh... well, if we’re near the station, um, maybe the government building? Oh, where was it…” Shiki squints down a street. “There?”

Joshua snaps the photo, then sighs. Shiki frowns too. He’ll give her this much: she’d been right about the direction; he can see the tip of the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building and even some of Park Tower, but beyond the vague reddish light and screaming people, nothing indicates the epicenter of the event. Tsk.

“Last one,” Shiki checks, and at Joshua’s nod, worries at her lip. “Hm...”

Joshua considers it. His finger taps against the case. After a moment, his eyes flicker up. He’s never known Shinjuku too well, even when he was alive; he’d stayed in Shibuya most of his life, and then the entirety of his afterlife. “Have you been to Shinjuku before?”

“Well... once or twice. Not as often as Shibuya. Uh, mainly around the station. Why?”

He frowns at the screen, not really seeing it. “Can you guess where the center of the city might be?”

“That’s...” She trails off. Her brow furrows. “Um. Maybe? One second.” She takes a deep breath. “Er... where’s Shibuya from here?”

This, Joshua could answer in his sleep. He is so aware of the city it nearly dizzies him; he smiles to hide the sudden tremor in his arms. Ah, it really does set in quick, doesn’t it?

“To our right,” Joshua says lightly, and cheerfully ignores the headache spiking behind his eyes.

“Okay.” She bites her lip. “Then... from there, to... and then turn left... by Golden Gai, maybe…?” She trails her eyes across the ruined landscape and finally settles for a direction slightly north-east from them. “There? I think. It’s hard to tell, with the buildings all... you know.”

“That’s good enough,” Joshua decides. He lines up the image. Then he pauses. For a moment he frowns. And then, not entirely sure why, he lifts the camera, taking in not just the street and the buildings but also the sky, high above.

He takes the shot.

His fingers tighten. His smile widens, but there’s no joy in it at all. “Bingo.”

“Yes!” She looks at the photo. Her eyes go wide. “...What?”

The photo is exactly what they need, but neither is it a welcome sight. The distant high-rise of the buildings is turning to dust and ash. People are cowering in the streets, covering their heads. A pale white light, tinged faintly bloody with red, shines out through all the streets with a piercing glow.

And high above, settled in the sky like a brand, the Reaper’s skull bears down on the city, blood red and burning bright.

“Interesting,” Joshua murmurs, and thumbs the phone off. “I believe we just got our first clue.”

Shiki bites her lip, then seems to shake herself. “We know where to start looking, now. So that’s good.” She brightens, a little. “And Neku’s sure to be there! He gets in too much trouble not to find it himself.” She’s smiling outright now, and pumps a fist to the air, triumphant, turning to Joshua with delight. “We did it!”

He giggles at her enthusiasm, and her smile falters, falling awkward and flat. Her eyes catch on his face and she seems to remember who she’s talking to for the first time. Her smile fades. Her fist lowers.

Joshua considers her, shrugs, and turns away to mess with his phone. His hands are still annoyingly shaky from earlier. He doesn’t speak. Shiki doesn’t say anything either. The silence stretches.

When it’s clear she’s not going to break, Joshua sighs again and closes his phone, looking down at the case briefly before tucking it back into his pocket. “You really don’t like me, do you?” Joshua muses, and tucks his hands in his pockets. “What stories Neku must have told you, I wonder.”

“He told me enough.” Her voice is quiet again. “But you already knew about that.”

He hums, not really answering. Another silence. This time, Shiki looks away.

“I can’t forgive you,” she announces, apropos of nothing, eyes on her stuffed animal. She hugs it close. “Which sounds silly, doesn’t it? Considering you never did anything to me. But even if Neku does forgive you, one day, I don’t think I ever will.” Joshua keeps his eyes on the skyline, and half an eye on her; he sees her fingers tighten. “I don’t know why you did it, and even if I did, I don’t think I really care.”

Something hardens in her voice. Joshua waits, patiently, for her to finish. “Your point?” he prompts.

Her jaw clenches, and for the first time she seems truly angry with him. “You hurt Neku. You hurt him— a lot. I remember that much. He was crying. I’d never seen him cry before. You did that.” I’m aware, Joshua thinks. Her eyes are fixed on the ground, now. “And you hurt him after it was over, too.”

Joshua frowns, briefly, the barest flicker of an expression, and Shiki looks up and smiles at the sight, an expression that is half-hearted and small and not very happy at all. “Yeah. I figured you didn’t know about that one. Neku doesn’t either, I don’t think. But he— he wanted to see you again, you know? No matter my feelings on it, that’s still true. Maybe he just wanted to hit you, or yell at you—um, maybe he just wanted answers?” She shrugs. “Maybe all three. But he did want to see you again. Whenever we meet up, he’s always getting distracted, looking for someone else. And I’m not stupid. I can guess.”

He has stayed silent thus far out of some amused hope of getting this out of her system; now Joshua is regretting that. There is something ashy on his tongue, settled cold in his throat. He takes a thin breath and exhales it slowly, like a test.

“You never came,” Shiki says, simply, a little harder. She’s looking at him, Joshua can tell, but he keeps his gaze turned away, fixed on the sky. “Maybe you meant that as a kindness? I don’t know. That doesn’t really matter either. Because it hurt him either way.”

Another pause. Joshua closes his eyes, opens them, and then finally looks back at her. She glares at him—not angry anymore, not really, just stubborn, stiff and holding her ground. He considers her.

“I don’t think you’re a bad person,” Shiki says, at last, reluctantly. Joshua raises an eyebrow at her. She huffs. “Which kind of makes it worse, maybe. But I don’t. Neku doesn’t either, otherwise he wouldn’t be trying so hard.” Her chin lifts, determined. “You probably aren’t sorry for what happened. You’ll probably never say it; it’s not really my business. But Neku’s trying. I don’t know why, but he is—and you know, if nothing else, you could stand to try too.”

Joshua doesn’t say anything. She’s caught him off-guard with this—of all things, this is not what he was expecting her to say. And maybe that is Joshua’s fault. Hasn’t he learned this lesson already? Isn’t that why Shibuya’s still standing? They lost the Game, all of them, Neku and Shiki and the Bito siblings; they lost the game, but they had changed his mind. They had surprised him. They had changed him in turn too, even if Joshua still doesn’t quite know how to admit it.

“Just a thought,” Shiki says, hotly, and this time she’s the one to turn away. “I don’t know if you even… N-never mind. This was stupid, I told myself I wouldn’t— let’s just go.”

How silly. All of his little asides, and yet this is what riles her up. It probably shouldn’t surprise him. She’s broken into a Reaper’s Game just for the chance to help; likely Joshua should have seen this coming. It’s still annoying, though. Why has he agreed to this again?

But he doesn’t move. He feels weary, and strangely drained, and he pinches at the bridge of his nose with a quiet exhale. Hah. He could say he’s still not sure why, but then, that would be lying, wouldn’t it? And while Joshua is rather good at lying to himself, he prefers not to make a habit of it.

He thinks, once, he would have been angry at this. He’s not sure what to make of the fact he’s not. He’s not sure what to say at all, actually—and isn’t that funny? That doesn’t happen often either.

Mostly he just feels tired.

Joshua watches Shiki walk away, and lingers there, at the edge of the sidewalk. His gaze draws back, turning away toward Shibuya; he looks past the ruined buildings to the streets that are His and His alone. He taps his fingers against his thigh. Trying, he thinks.

But there is no time. And so Joshua pulls his gaze away, and leaves Shibuya and his thoughts behind him.

[liunaticfringe]

Lucy Liu is chuckling quietly on the other end of the phone line as she muses over the question inspired by the title of her new series, Why Women Kill.

"I don't think every woman could be pissed off enough to actually become a killer," the 51-year-old actor says, referring to the SBS series about three women living in different decades who must each decide how to deal with infidelity. "But does it make you think about the times where you've been really angry at someone – like, what it would take? Maybe."

She adds with another giggle, "Obviously I've never gone to that extent, but I've had many opportunities in my career to carry out death sentences. So I guess you could say, for good or bad, I've been able to get it out of my system somewhat!"

Lucy – who recently wrapped a seven-season stint as Dr Joan Watson to Jonny Lee Miller's Sherlock Holmes in the modern-day TV revamp Elementary (2012-19) – is talking to Sunday Life from her New York City apartment, where she's been busy trying to keep her four-year-old son Rockwell amused during the city-wide COVID-19 stay-at-home order.

"New York is usually vibrant, because it's a walking city, but now everyone is wearing masks and avoiding each other," she laments. "It's difficult because Rockwell likes to be moving around all the time. It's just impossible to have him not put things in his mouth when I turn my back!"

Why Women Kill is creator Marc Cherry's latest series to showcase a female ensemble. He started out in 1990 as a writer and producer on the The Golden Girls and its short-lived spin-off, The Golden Palace. He also co-created the female-driven sitcom, The 5 Mrs Buchanans, went on to create the Golden Globe-winning series Desperate Housewives, and followed that up with Devious Maid.

Why Women Kill is a 10-part series detailing the lives of three women living in the same California home over three eras: Beth Ann (Ginnifer Goodwin), a '60s housewife; Simone (Lucy Liu), an '80s socialite; and Taylor (Kirby Howell-Baptiste), a present-day lawyer. There's bisexuality, open marriage, adultery, a closeted spouse, an overdose, a front-yard brawl and a choking incident involving meatloaf – and that's just the first episode!

Ultimately, the show examines how the roles of women may have changed through the decades, but their reaction to betrayal remains the same.

The actor had just wrapped Elementary when Cherry called to pitch her the character. "He said he really had Simone in mind for me, then he walked me through the actual storyline," she recalls. "It definitely changed a little bit from what we talked about at the start, but during the writing we got to know each other more and I felt like he had a great way of telling a story.

"I also loved the idea of Simone living in the '80s with the hair and shoulder pads, and what the relationship to the cheating is for each character, as it has an unexpected ending."

The daughter of Taiwanese immigrants, Lucy was raised in the Jackson Heights neighbourhood of Queens, in New York City, and initially planned to pursue a degree in Asian languages and culture at the University of Michigan.

But she also secretly dreamed of becoming an actor, studying old Charlie Chan movies, and finally raised the nerve to audition for a supporting role in a college production of Alice in Wonderland in her final year.

Lucy was astonished when she landed the lead role, and it was all the encouragement she needed. As soon as she graduated, she broke the news to her parents that, despite her freshly inked college degree, she was moving to LA to become an actor.

After appearing in a string of TV shows including E.R. (1995, three episodes) and Ally McBeal (1998-2002, 79 episodes), she landed film roles in Charlie's Angels (2000), Chicago (2002) and Kill Bill Vol. 1 (2003).

Lucy looks back and sees her young self as more guileless than driven, hardly the Asian trailblazer breaking stereotypes in Hollywood that she's become.

"I think I was just too naive and didn't know what was ahead of me or what I was going to be up against," she admits. "I had some idea when I got to LA, because a friend of mine would have 10 auditions in a day or a week and I would have maybe two or three in a month, so I knew it was going to be much more limited for me.

"But then I got really lucky with a few jobs, which put me in rooms for auditions where I looked like no other woman in the room. I thought, ‘I don't even understand why I'm here, but I'm going to give it my all.'

"I think when you are somewhat the black sheep, you don't really have anything to lose, because they are not necessarily looking for you. So you may as well go for it!"

Some reviewers have compared Why Women Kill's catty Simone to uber-bitch Alexis Carrington (Joan Collins) in the iconic '80s soap opera Dynasty. "I didn't really watch Dynasty because I couldn't relate to it as a child of immigrant parents, and I didn't understand that kind of wealth and the claws coming out to scratch you," says Lucy.

"But as you go on in life, you start to understand a little bit more what that pop culture was. When I started doing Charlie's Angels and went back to that era to see the representation of those women at that time, I realised they weren't just all kitschy, but they were also incredibly smart and sexy."

As friendly and accessible as Lucy is, she's also full of pride when asked about her son. Has she used some of their isolation time to introduce him to her voice work as Viper in the animated Kung Fu Panda films? Definitely not, the protective mum replies. "He doesn't know what I do. All he thinks is that I'm an artist and I'm a mommy – and that's enough for now."

Rockwell was born in 2015 via gestational surrogate after Lucy made the decision to become a single parent. "Elementary was the longest job I ever had and it gave me the ability to stay in one place, because we were syndicated and we knew we were going to be making a certain number of shows," she explains.

"So that was also the impetus for me to think, ‘Maybe I can have a family of my own.' It wasn't like I was making bad decisions before that, but I had made the choice to prioritise my career. Then, one day, I just felt like it wasn't enough. I didn't want to look back in 30 years and realise I was still having the same conversations about my job every day. I wanted more."

Lucy gets emotional while talking about how motherhood has changed her. "It's almost become this cellular feeling of connecting to the universe in a way where you understand the idea of the cycle of life and the responsibility of having another being who is a part of you but outside of yourself. It's a very different feeling to doing a project where you know you will finish and move on. This is a life-long decision that changes your life and prioritises things in a very positive way."

Given how candidly she has spoken about going it alone as a parent, it's surprising how little she's volunteered about her personal life. She explains it is all by design: she has never spoken publicly about her relationships, although online stories have flagged a handful of boyfriends, including a three-year relationship with actor Will McCormack that ended in 2008, and a relationship with Israeli-American shoe tycoon Noam Gottesman in 2010.

"I've always been very private and I fly under the radar as much as possible," she says. "I do that in a very specific manner. I don't bring people I'm dating to any public event because it's a big responsibility that I'm not sure anyone wants.

"Your work is your legacy and you want to be able to do more each time, and change so you can continue to have some kind of value," says Lucy, who has also been a producer and director. "You don't want people thinking of you as just someone who dated someone and getting distracted from your work."

For now it seems Lucy Liu's legacy is doing just fine, thank you.Lucy gets emotional while talking about how motherhood has changed her. "It's almost become this cellular feeling of connecting to the universe in a way where you understand the idea of the cycle of life and the responsibility of having another being who is a part of you but outside of yourself. It's a very different feeling to doing a project where you know you will finish and move on. This is a life-long decision that changes your life and prioritises things in a very positive way."Given how candidly she has spoken about going it alone as a parent, it's surprising how little she's volunteered about her personal life. She explains it is all by design: she has never spoken publicly about her relationships, although online stories have flagged a handful of boyfriends, including a three-year relationship with actor Will McCormack that ended in 2008, and a relationship with Israeli-American shoe tycoon Noam Gottesman in 2010."I've always been very private and I fly under the radar as much as possible," she says. "I do that in a very specific manner. I don't bring people I'm dating to any public event because it's a big responsibility that I'm not sure anyone wants."Your work is your legacy and you want to be able to do more each time, and change so you can continue to have some kind of value," says Lucy, who has also been a producer and director. "You don't want people thinking of you as just someone who dated someone and getting distracted from your work."For now it seems Lucy Liu's legacy is doing just fine, thank you.

[emeraldwaves]

Title: With Blue Flames and Ice we Freeze For @villainmonth Day 5 - Hope Pairing:  DabiGeten Rating: T Word Count: 3,834 Read on Ao3 Summary:  

Living in Hell isn’t Dabi’s first choice, but after getting kicked out of Heaven, he’s stuck. It’s a pain in his ass, especially when his father forces him to undergo the Trials of Hell in order to prepare him to be the next King of Hell. Dabi isn’t particularly interested in facing the various ‘Sins’, but this is his ‘fate’. With Geten to guide him, Dabi suffers as they descend together into the depths of Hell.

Thank you to @amaisenshi and @ohmytheon for reading this over <3

Dabi watches Geten walk in front of him. She's quiet as they continue their descent into the lower caverns of hell. Occasionally she glances behind her, a quick peek to see if he's still following her.

She's been so damn pissy since they left Hawks. Apparently because the idiot didn't complete the trial properly. Dabi had heard her mumbling about how he didn't try and how love is stupid and the lustful idiot should make himself more useful.

Their eyes catch from time to time and she's quick to turn around. She would be pretty, if it weren't for the words that came out of her mouth.

Not that Dabi cares about that at all.

Admittedly, he doesn't care about any of this. He keeps reminding himself the ends justify the means; all this effort to destroy everything his father has worked to build... but it's also such a pain.

He lets out a long sigh and Geten glances back at him once more, her eyes narrowing into a glare. "What was that about?" she asks.

"What? I sighed? Is that against the rules? Does this mean I lost?"

"Don't sound so excited. You didn't lose," she says. "Even if you did, maybe I would keep leading you to the next door, just to see you struggle a little bit."

She pauses, rolling her eyes as if she's remembered the whole ordeal all over again. "Especially since the appointed sins aren't doing their job."

This woman.

"Are you going to tell me how Hawks fucked up or no?"

She turns towards him, raising an eyebrow. "Oh? So now you're digging for information? Mr. 'I don't care about this'. She wiggles her fingers, doing air quotes as she talks.

"I don't care."

"Then why did you ask?" She smirks, a devilish look. He can almost imagine the horns curling away from her head, her eyes turning the signature demon black.

"Because you won't stop grumbling about it."

"I don't actually care," she says, shrugging her shoulders. She folds her hands behind her head, continuing to walk forward.

"Then why are you getting pissy?"

"Because," she sighs. "I was really looking forward to watching something juicy."

This woman.

If he cared more, maybe he would've asked where she was from, or how she got this position. Or why she has ice powers in hell. Kind of seems like a waste.

But he doesn't care about this sadistic woman who wants to watch him potentially destroy himself in a fight.

Clicking his tongue, Dabi moves past her, ignoring the roll of her eyes. "Do I even need a guide?" There's only one way to go," he says, gesturing to the long pathway as it curves down so low he can't even see where it goes.

A path of ice curves in front of him, stopping him in his tracks. She skates around, her white hair floating behind her when she stops in front of him. "I already told you, I'm a judge. So yes, you do need me." She shoots a hand into the sky, ice trailing up around the second door. The design is slightly different from the first and Dabi watches as the ice flows around the corner, covering the door completely. "Plus, you wouldn't be able to open these doors without me," she smirks, pushing the large door open.

Rolling his eyes, Dabi wonders what would happen if he didn't follow her. He knows he can't find out; unless he wants to go back up and deal with his father, the only way to go is forward.

The room is another large cavern, but unlike Hawks' room, this one is entirely empty, save for the man standing in the middle of the room. He's facing the floor, His head buried in his hand. He's shaking his head back and forth and it looks like he's muttering to himself.

"Who the hell is this?" Dabi starts to ask.

The man's head shoots up, his eyes looking panicked, desperate, as if he's in need of something. "Like I would tell you," he snaps, his demeanor changing completely. His voice is gruff and full of anger, the aura of seething rage emanating off of his body.

"No! I can tell you!" he cries out immediately after. His voice is so sad now, lighter and higher pitched, like he’s a completely different person inhabiting the same body.

Dabi tilts his head, looking back at Geten. "What the hell is wrong with this guy?"

She flicks her hand, and swirls it around in one spot, ice forming quickly. She raises her hand up, creating a small throne for her to sit on and she immediately takes a seat. "I dunno. Hell didn't tell me who it was picking for the sins this time."

"Does Hell normally tell you?"

"No," she says. "So figure it out."

The man groans, stumbling towards him.

"I won't tell you my name," he snaps, but then quickly shakes his head. "My name is Bubaigawara Jin."

Dabi has certainly never heard that name before. The man stops moving, still clutching his head as he stands in the middle. Dabi glances towards Geten, as if she's going to help. He knows she won't, but he's starting to understand why Hawks was an idiot. Since he let Dabi go through so easily, he has no frame of reference on what to do. Is he supposed to fight this loon?

"Heh," he says, "What's with the back and forth?" Dabi asks, a hint of snark in his voice.

"I'm not crazy," the man says, but he quickly shakes his head again, the light voice trembling nervously. "I am crazy!" He yells this time, the gruff, harsh tone returning.

Dabi tilts his head. With Hawks, it was obvious to him which sin he took the form of... but with this man, he couldn't even begin to understand what he was saying. "Which is it?" Dabi mutters under his breath.

Taking a step forward, Dabi wonders momentarily if he's supposed to fight this man, but the blond immediately scurries back.

"Stay back!" he yells. "Come closer!" He’s gruff again, his eyes shimmering with anger.

He turns towards Geten, who smirks, a soft laugh slipping from her lips. "Don't look at me, I don't have any answers for you."

During Hawks' trial, he showed Dabi part of his past and he wonders if this guy is supposed to do the same. Of course Dabi's not sure if this guy even knows what the fuck he's meant to be doing.

"Look man, I don't wanna fight or anything. So just... show me your memories and we can call it a day and I'll leave you alone."

He freezes again, his arms trembling as he slowly glances up to Dabi. His hands shake as he grips at his forehead. "Who's memories?! Mine? No. You can't. Yes. You can. No-..." He shakes his head back and forth again so quickly, his head tilting back as he lets out a loud scream. Clones of the man appear in front of Dabi, all of them identical to the original, who is impossible to find now that he's surrounded by himself.

"Unexpected!" Geten gasps, bouncing her legs up and down, draping them over the arm of the throne. "Have fun," she hums.

He rolls his eyes. This whole trial seems like a huge damn pain.

But there's only way to get out of it.

He rolls his shoulders back and takes a moment to think. During Hawks' trial, the idiot had grabbed his forehead, transferring the moments to Dabi's head he wanted him to see, but perhaps that was part of why it was too easy... In this case, Dabi is going to have to be the one to get the memories, since Bubaigawara doesn't seem to want to give them up.

Or he does?

It's unclear really.

Dabi rolls his eyes. "Alright," he snorts, holding his palm up, the fiery blue flames lick around his fingers, igniting immediately. "Let's find the real you."

"You never will," one of them says.

"Or you will! Good luck!"

Dabi clicks his tongue, deciding interacting with this idiot is going to get him absolutely nowhere. He'll cut them down until he finds the real one.

Flames slice through the clones, and they disappear as soon as his fingers cut through the transparent bodies. At least they're not real, that would be a real pain.

Bubaigawara laughs; the sound surrounds him, shooting through the cavern as more clones appear. It's not a normal laugh, it echoes with madness, a level of insanity Dabi has never felt, despite how crazy being trapped in Hell makes him feel.

There has to be something, Dabi decides, that sets the real one apart from the clones. He flicks his tail back and forth, and glances behind him. The clones have surrounded him now, so much so, he can't even see Geten and the ice throne she made herself.

"Fuck," he hisses, wondering if he could break through them. If his flames could touch the real one, maybe he would react differently. The scalding flames would have to do some damage to his actual body, since the clones seem to be something of an illusion.

Clenching his fists, he allows the flames to flow over his skin. It hurts; despite being a demon, his skin has angelic qualities which have never left him, making it difficult to use his demonic flames to the fullest.

But one large shot of fire won't kill him. The flames curl up his arms, and he spins, shooting the fire around from his body. The blue flames flicker throughout the cavern, hitting against the illusions. They shoot out covering the floor of the cavern, curling at the edges. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Geten's chair starts to melt, and shoots more ice from her palms, fighting against the heat. The clones, however, disappear in bulk, and Dabi tries to focus waiting for some sort of sign-

"Ah! It's too hot!"

"It's freezing me!"

Bubaigawara hops up and down, waving his arms frantically as he tries to extinguish the flames.

"Heh," Dabi smirks, panting heavily, the blue fire slowly pulling back towards his body. His skin is smoking, torched completely. But he knows exactly where the original is. "Gotcha."

Running forward, he charges at Bubaigawara, cutting through the few clones which try to block his way. He thrusts his fist into his stomach with one hand and grabs his forehead with the other.

Bubaigawara's eyes widen and he stares as Dabi grips his head.

He smirks. "Let's see what's inside that fucked up brain of yours."

~~

"You're a guardian angel, Bubaigawara Jin," All Might smiled, leading him through the entryway to heaven.

"A... A guardian angel?"

"Yes," All Might chuckled. Obviously the man was quite used to new angels being rather confused. "It's a very important job."

"Wait," Bubaigawara said. "I'm dead... but I still have to work."

All Might laughed again. "Everyone in Heaven is given a special job. It depends on how you died when you were on Earth. For you, you died protecting someone precious to you and so-"

"Who? Who did I protect?!" he asked. It was strange, no matter how much he tried he couldn't seem to recall who he was, besides his name.

"Ah, Jin, those are questions I unfortunately cannot answer," All Might laughed.

"Why?"

"All right, all right," he said, gently tapping his shoulder. "I know you have many questions, but for now, let me give you a tour." He completely avoided answering anything.

The concept of death wasn't an easy one to grasp. Bubaigawara found himself wondering why his memories were completely gone and who he could've possibly saved?

"When you're a guardian angel, your job is to watch over the humans on Earth. You will assist those in need by sharing some of your grace. We have grace pools where you will replenish your grace and energy. You must not take too much and you must not give up too much. It's a balance, Jin," All Might explained.

He wanted to believe this would be something he would be good at. Watching over others, protecting those in need, making their lives better. As much as having a job while being in the afterlife didn't sound like the most relaxing version of Heaven, he did think it would be rewarding to watch people and provide them with energy to make it through difficult times in their lives.

He wondered if anyone did that for him.

"You will watch over one human at a time. You will follow them until they are no longer in need of grace. Broken humans can always be fixed," All Might chuckled. "That is your main goal. Once you are done, you must move on. Getting attached to humans will cause you to fall."

"Fall?"

"To Hell," All Might said. "Corrupted angels will fall to Hell."

Bubaigawara knew he would never let something like that happen.

~~

Humans were constantly struggling, Bubaigawara learned quickly. Decades passed, centuries... and with every new human he watched over, he felt his soul grow wearier and wearier.

There were times when the job was good.

One woman he had watched over for years died from old age, her life fulfilled. At first, she had been heartbroken when her husband had died young in the military, but Bubaigawara had given her grace, slowly but surely, pouring more and more into her life.

He had watched her in the cloud pool, throughout her life, checking in on her. At first she had been reclusive, barely working, never leaving her house, but the more grace she received, the more she was willing to leave the house. She had married again at one point, smiling with a different young man, someone who loved her greatly.

And Bubaigawara was convinced he loved her too. Happy to see her happy. It was a good feeling, one he was desperate to feel again.

She died surrounded in love and grace. He hoped she had a more relaxing Heaven experience than he did. It gave him hope that humans could live out beautiful lives. He cried when she passed, not wishing to move on to a different human, even though he most likely should have done so sooner.

But there were other times when the job sucked out his grace, leaving him aching and desperate for more. Why couldn't all humans be like the elderly woman who died in her sleep? He chased the feeling, the good feeling.

One human had lost his whole family in an accident, and despite Bubaigawara pouring all his grace into him... that man killed himself, destined to become a Soul Guide for all eternity; leading souls where they belonged in the afterlife. They were only allowed to live in Purgatory, a worse fate than Heaven or Hell.

It was then he realized humans were far sadder than they let on. No amount of grace could save even the saddest ones.

Bubaigawara was convinced he could try. Anything to get the good feeling back again.

"You must not take too much grace, Jin," All Might often instructed.

But why?

Bubaigawara had stopped asking questions, as they often went unanswered.

Standing in the grace pool, Bubaigawara stared at his reflection. His blond hair was messy, his eyes tired. How could he get so little rest when it wasn't something he needed?

He dunked his hands into the water, splashing it up towards his face. It was cool, rolling down his skin. If only humans could feel this level of relief, if only he could give them everything they desired and more.

He glanced around at the pools surrounding him. The angels had plenty of grace... so why? Why couldn't he share with as many humans as possible. They wouldn't notice if he took more than usual, especially now, when they were all on break, enjoying their evenings to themselves.

His fingers touched the tip of the water and he began to pull in the grace to his body. The normal amount flowed into him without any problem and he pulled in a deep breath. He could take more, he could handle it. These people he watched gave him a purpose and he wanted to give them one back.

Bubaigawara pressed his fingers against the water, the glow of grace humming against his fingers, more energy flowed into him.

And he took more.

And more...

More.

His body felt tight, like his head was about to tear at the seams. He let out a cry, his body curling in on itself as though he was about to explode with the power of the grace. He wouldn't keep it for much longer. He could handle it.

He made his way to the cloud pools, his body heavy. His mind screamed, the grace tearing at his muscles. There was too much, far too much. At least he would give up soon.

Stumbling forward, Bubaigawara grabbed the first cloud pool he could find and poured grace into the humans which popped up.

They would all be happy, he could make them all happy.

He stumbled from pool to pool, pouring the grace into the humans he saw, their voices echoing in his mind. He had been warned not to watch too many humans and yet he had given grace to so many now.

He clutched the corner of the cloud pool, staring down at a crying human. This was why he did this... to save them from the pain they felt in their time on Earth. He couldn't remember his time, but he wanted the fulfillment he had felt... watching over the elderly woman. The more grace he gave, the higher his chance of feeling it again.

It was selfish, but it wasn't.

He wanted to feel good, but he wanted them to feel good.

His mind cried out in agony, the humans he watched in pain.

"Why?!" he cried out. "Why are they not feeling happy?!"

Why was he not feeling happy?!

Maybe he needed more. He had hoped this would help him, help humans, but it wasn't doing anything good.

He rushed back to the grace pool, tripping as he dashed inside. He pressed the tips of his fingers the grace pool, his body shuddering as he pulled more and more inside of him. The noises in his head grew louder and louder and he made his way back the grace pools.

He clutched the side, his eyes darting to and fro as he desperately tried to remember who he had given grace too, millions of humans flowed through his mind, his conscious trying to focus on one, but all he could feel was their pain. The tears they felt, the torment they were going through on Earth all screamed in his mind.

In front of his eyes, the cloud pool shifted from human to human, unable to settle on one. Grace poured from his chest, flowing towards various humans, even ones who didn't even need it.

As much as he wanted everyone to feel happy, himself included, all he could feel was pure agony as his mind ripped apart by the excess grace trapped in his body. All hope he had once felt was now completely gone.

~~

Dabi falls backwards, his hand trembling as he looked at Bubaigawara who now sat on the ground.

He swallows, staring at the way he shakes his head back and forth. It seems the human voices maybe never left.

Frowning, Dabi shoves his hands into his pants pocket. "You're a real idiot, aren't you?"

"No!"

"Of course I am!"

No wonder he constantly contradicts himself.

"Did you really think breaking the rules in Heaven would actually lead to anything good? They suck up there."

"It's horrible up there!" Bubaigawara spits. "I miss it so much..." His eyes shift, filled with a gentle sadness.

Dabi can understand those contradictions.

"You threw it away," Dabi spits, glaring down at the man. It takes all of his being not to torch the idiot completely. What the hell had he been thinking?

Dabi still wants to be up there; in Heaven, where he always wanted to belong. It was unfair, being ripped from people who could've loved him.

"Did you really think humans were worth helping?" Dabi asks, folding his arms. He tucks his hands in the crooks of his elbows, not wanting to shoot fire directly in this lunatics face.

"They're all miserable!"

"I... I wanted to make them happy!"

It was strange, though the statements were contradictory... they were oddly similar. Idiotic.

"And look at how far that got you," Dabi says, anger flashing in his eyes. "Let's go Geten. This is done."

A scoff slips from her lips as she hops off her chair, letting it melt immediately. "I'm glad you've decided it's over."

"Isn't it though?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

She glances between the two of them, her icy gaze falling on Bubaigawara's trembling form on the ground.

"It is," she says softly.

"Leave me alone," he says, clutching his head. "No! Don't leave me!"

"It's time to go," she says, walking past both of them.

Glancing at Bubaigawara once more, Dabi follows after Geten. These trials... they must be meant to torture him. He keeps having to watch as these idiots give up the one thing he always wanted. They gave it up so easily; Bubaigawara with his hopeful ideas and Hawks... the lovesick fool.

They're all fools.

He glares at Geten as they step out of the room.

"Are all the trials going to be me dealing with idiocy?" he asks, rolling his eyes as she shuts the door behind him.

"They're all different," she says. "You shouldn't take it so lightly."

"Whatever," he snaps, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Let's keep going."

"Someone's pissy," she snorts, skating forward on her ice. "Did you not enjoy what you saw in Bubaigawara's mind?"

"Was I supposed to?"

"I dunno!" she shrugs, twirling around on the ice. "I'm not privy to what you end up seeing."

"Right. I forgot you're basically useless," he scoffs.

"I would be nice to your judge," she says with a huff. "Remember, you can't open the doors without me-"

"Can we just shut up and keep going?" he asks, stopping in the middle of the path.

She smirks, glancing back over her shoulder. "As you wish, oh pissy one."

"Shut up," he snaps, stepping around her ice as he continues forward.

He never asked how many trials there were, and he's certain if he asks Geten, she'll be cryptic or annoying and he's already tired of this bullshit. The only thing fueling him forward is the petty knowledge he'll get to piss off his father in the end. He can only hope it'll all be fucking worth it.

[mikami]

Death Note Audio Drama 06

Disc 6: Grey-zone  - a summary / partial translation

Prior translations / an explanation as to what the fuck this is.

In this: Rem dragging business men, a lot. NightGod228, the playboy. A minor character gets confirmed as gay, but only as part of a homophobic humorous quip, so let’s not get excited. There���s also some fun focus on the internal relations of the Yotsuba Eight, but sadly nothing becomes of it in later discs. 

Hatori is inexplicably nicknamed ‘Harry’.

_______

We begin with Rem explaining the rules of the Death Note to Higuchi, as well as telling him what he is supposed to do / who he is supposed to kill. Rem also somehow discloses that someone she is closed to is accused of murder.

Higuchi’s catchphrase in this is “business is war”.

______

TITLE MUSIC

______

L visits Soichiro in his cell. Soichiro insists on living in the same conditions as Light, even if he could have better. L tells Soichiro that the new Kira murders continue. L is not totally convinced of Light’s innocent anyway, thinks he’s in the grey. He suggests a test to Soichiro, to ‘take some drastic measures’. (Soichiro: “Oh? And we haven’t done that so far?”)

______

Light in his cell. He’s getting taken out of it now, against his will and without explanation.

______

Aizawa trying to get into the new headquarters they just now moved into, in a scene that references the anime one with the belt (just without the belt). Aizawa in this somehow goes by “Shu” with people in the task force, short for his first name “Shuichi”.

Thew new HQ has been downgraded to 10 stories instead of the 23 from the manga. Watari shows Aizawa around. Aizawa refuses to move into the building, due to his daughter going to school totally elsewhere. 

______

Soichiro and Misa in the car. 

MISA: Is that you? The pervert who held me captive this whole time?

SOICHIRO: No! No, I.... I have a daughter.

MISA: Congratulations, I have a cat. Orrr... I had a cat. Uugh, I bet she ran away already and gets her food elsewhere. Uuhh... How long was I gone? How long was I held captive?

At another stop, Light is also brought into the car. The dialogue here is close to the manga. 

______

The task force is waiting at the junkyard that is planned for the fake execution.

______

Light and Misa assume they’ll be let out, but Soichiro informs them its their execution instead. Light tries to... ask for a lawyer. Pretty calmly, too.

But in response, Soichiro is just like ‘well, you’ll not actually be put on trial’ and thus a lawyer is useless. Soichiro says that L promised to kill himself if the murders don’t stop after these executions. 

Soichiro declares that he personally has to execute Light, you know the deal.

Wohoo, mock execution.

______

Matsuda accidentally parked at the wrong entrance to the junkyard, so they have to very quickly drive to the other end in order to reach Soichiro and co.............

______

Soichiro explains to Light why he did the mock execution and how L accepts that as evidence.

______

L talks to Watari. He isn’t actually convinced that Light didn’t just look through the bluff. Thus, he’ll let Misa go as long as she is under police ‘protection’. And Light has to work in the task force.

______

Meeting of the Yotsuba Eight. First Mido presents the yearly finances, which is very quick and without detail.

OOI: If all bullet points get done so quickly, we’ll all end up becoming better at playing golf. 

Laughter.

OOI: Point two. The development of real estate in the Tama Hills. What does your department have to say to that?

TAKAHASHI: I-- I didn’t even realize this was a topic today. Could we delay it? 

SOMEONE: Seriously?

TAKAHASHI: Everything’s gonna be fine. I just don’t have the numbers with me today. 

OOI: I can only let that pass with an explicit warning. The financial department is getting stricter and stricter with the paperwork. One-time delay until the next meeting, but then it really has to happen, Mr. Takahashi.

TAKAHASHI: I’m sorry. It just slipped through.

OOI: It’s fine, we’ll do it next time. Point three and after that we’ll be done already. Who are we going to kill this week?

______

L explains to Light that he can only leave the building if handcuffed to him, but no mention of handcuffs within the building is made. The whole conversation about regulations, dates, and Light being like ‘uh, are we a couple’, etc... those are all pretty much like the manga. L presses the whole memories about their meeting thing for a while and L’s actor will NEVER learn how to say ‘Aoyama’, please save me. 

______

Back at the Yotsuba meeting.

REM: Just look at them. Pretending to think really hard. Like little school boys. Is this really the best that an economic force like Japan can offer?  

OOI: Oh please, gentlemen, someone has to have an idea.

REM (mocking): Just toss dice, Mr. Representative. Let them draw lots. Toss money in the air and check who’s collecting the most. 

SOMEONE: It’s getting difficult. Kira stopped killing criminals and started killing innocent civilians. 

HIGUCHI: Quite apparently Kira is now looking for victim’s from whose deaths he can profit somehow. 

SOMEONE: So, Kyousuke, you are claiming he’s a hitman now?

HIGUCHI: So far there’s been no complaints. Least of all from you. You all agreed to the deal. We can’t just back out now.

REM: What an important point, Kyousuke. Tell that to these men. Eight different departments in this group and not a single woman in the room?

They keep discussing the Kira matter and why Kira is doing it. Shimura brings up the idea that one of them could be Kira. They decide to not look a gift horse in the mouth and to just kill people. In the end, Rem tells Higuchi to just make name suggestions and so he does.

______

Matsuda is declared Misa’s new manager / bodyguard / observation agent. Light finds this ridiculous. L then also asks Light to get more information from Misa, since she loves him so much. Light says he doesn’t like the thought of playing with girls’ feelings.

Light: [...] Someone is seriously going to get hurt. [emotionally]

L: There are human lives at stake in this game. [shitty translation, but ‘to be at stake’ in the German INCLUDES the word ‘game’ already, idiomatically.]

Light: I don’t play.

L: Strange, because that’s exactly how I’d describe your old self.

LIGHT: What?

L: Who is Kiyomi Takada?

LIGHT: A girl I had a few dates with. So?

L: Who is Yuri Ohara?

LIGHT: A girl I had dates with.

L: 73% of your contacts on social media are women, did you know that? 

LIGHT: I’m popular.

L: Over the last two years, you’ve been NightGod228 on two different dating platforms. With more than 500 likes?

LIGHT: I am pretty sure you’re implying something here. But I’m still puzzling out what.

L: It’s just... up until a little while ago, you’ve been a very busy boy. 

LIGHT: That’s not a crime.

L: And now suddenly this change in your attitude. Suddenly a romantic. Did you give a damn for Kiyomi Takada’s feelings? You haven’t called her in a month. And don’t you wonder how Yuri Ohara got over the busjacking you led her into?

LIGHT: I’ve got a lot of friends. Some of them are girls.

L: Most of them.

LIGHT: At least I’ve got friends.

______

OOI: With that, we’re all present.

REM: A handful of idiots.

OOI: Thus I declare this meeting of the Yotsuba group---

TAKAHASHI: Mr. Representative, I have to apologize, but this was a little unexpected and--

OOI: It was unexpected for all of us, Mr. Takahashi.

REM: Because you’re idiots.

TAKAHASHI: I just thought I had until Tuesday to get this sorted out.

OOI: This meeting is not going to be about the financial situation of Tama Hills, Mr. Takahashi. 

TAKAHASHI: Oh. Of course.

It’s actually about Kira, of course. They figure out that impossible death conditions won’t take place and default to heart attacks. 

Someone points out their goals are getting reached anyway.

SOMEONE: That’s not it. We’re starting to get careless.

REM: You’re only starting now?

They point out that these killings are too obvious and that’s an issue.They wanna do something about it.

_______

Soichiro and Kitamura talk. Soichiro tells Kitamura about the new building, Kitamura is jealous of the luxury. Soichiro revels in this. And then Kitamura announces that the Kira investigation is going to be quit. 

______

Matsuda drops Aizawa off at home. He presses Aizawa to move into HQ, but Aizawa still does not want to move in. His wife doesn’t even know he’s on the Kira team.

Matsuda gets called in his function as Misa’s manager and informed she won a contest and gained a movie role. Matsuda obviously has no fucking clue what any of this means and is just concerned that Misa shouldn’t act in porn. The lady calling is audibly confused by the lack of enthusiasm.

_______

Soichiro and Kitamura discuss more about the closing of the task force. Kitamura is very dismissive about the use of the investigation. Kitamura also reveals that the politicians are being blackmailed by Kira to cancel the investigation. Soichiro is appalled.

_______

Light found out the link to Yotsuba. They treat this as if they’d always known Kira can kill through means other than heart attacks, even though in the manga that was a big reveal. RIP.

_______

Higuchi and Shimura in the elevator.

SHIMURA: I’ve been meaning to talk to you, Kyousuke. 

HIGUCHI: Oh really?

SHIMURA: About our weekend project. 

HIGUCHI: What’s with it?

HATORI: Even if you succeed in getting the police to stop their investigations, this L is never going to stop.

HIGUCHI: Maybe not... but.... I don’t know how we’re supposed to get to him. He might be one of the world’s top detectives, but nobody has ever seen his face before and nobody knows his name. 

SHIMURA: And if we had those two things, our... friend could do the rest, right?

HIGUCHI: Yeah.

SHIMURA: Then let’s get out own detective. L is not the only player on the market. Let’s get another detective to find out what we need to know.

HIGUCHI: I like that. 

SHIMURA: Gerald Coil. He’s not cheap, but he knows what he’s doing. Let’s put him on the L case. If we get rid of L, we won’t have any more problems. 

HIGUCHI: Do that.

________

Soichiro informs the task force of Kitamura’s decision. Everyone except for Aizawa agrees to quit. L tells him to decide right now, even though he wants time to think. When Aizawa hesitates, L wants to fire him, but Watari chimes in as he does in the manga. L then asks Aizawa to talk in private.

________

Higuchi and Hatori are golfing.

HIGUCHI: Good blow, Mr. Hatori.

HATORI: My friends call me Harry.

HIGUCHI: Your jaunty golf friends?

HATORI: Well, in that case it’d be you, Kyousuke.

They talk about some golf terms as they play, no idea what that means. 

HATORI: Now we’re almost at the goal.

HIGUCHI: Thanks for the heads-up, I’m not much of a golf player.

HATORI: Well, who’s able to afford that anyway? This field is top league. Most golf players have to earn their money abroad.

HIGUCHI: It has to cost a fortune to be a member in a golf club like this.

HATORI: Well, there’s also candidates who are simply the son of the boss, even if he was never married to their mother.

More golf talk. Higuchi expresses surprise that it’s only the two of them.

HATORI: I wanted to talk to you in private. About our... secret helper.

HIGUCHI: What about him? 

HATORI: It’s a quite intense form of insider business. And it costs human lives.

HIGUCHI: Business is war.

HATORI: And we’re playing the nuclear bombshell card. We’re using... I don’t know, black magic, to get rid of our rivals. That’s going to have a price, I know it. Listen, Kyousuke, I... I want out. I don’t want to do this anymore. It isn’t right.

HIGUCHI: You know what isn’t right? For you to become boss of the marketing department when you’ve just graduated college. Just because your mother is fucking the company president. You know what you signed up for, Mr. Hatori. You could barely believe your luck as you could announce 20% growth for your department, despite that pathetic ad campaign for Space Land theme park. 

HATORI: I understand. Well, I thank you for your honesty. I came to you first because you hardly mince words. 

HIGUCHI: You haven’t talked to anyone else yet?

HATORI: Not yet, no, I---

HIGUCHI: Okay, listen. I understand what’s on your mind. Maybe we’ve gone  a little too far, maybe... we can take a little break. Talk about it. Let’s keep this conversation among ourselves for now. I’ll bring it up at the next meeting, Mr. Hatori. 

HATORI: My friends call me Harry.

HIGUCHI: ... of course.

________

L encourages Aizawa to quit for his family, even if Aizawa is still hesitating. L tells him he needs 110% from his team. Aizawa calls Ukita his best friend here, bringing him up as something he already sacrificed. L says he can’t let Aizawa add weight to his conscience too (by dying). Aizawa accuses him of having no conscience and storms out.

_________

Hatori sitting down at the golf club bar alone, Higuchi already left. He’s having a whiskey. Takahashi is on the phone.

TAKAHASHI: Harry. What can I do for you?

HATORI: Hey Takahashi. That... thing we talked about. I... I, uh, talked to someone else from the meetings. He’ll bring it up in the next session.

TAKAHASHI: So I shouldn’t say anything. 

HATORI: Let him talk first, then support him. It’s going to look like it’s happening without coordination. I’ll also support it, and then we’ll have 3 votes. Ooi is going to remain neutral, as the meeting leader. That means we’ll have enough votes to cast doubt on the whole operation. 

TAKASHI: Okay, so I’ll stay put and wait first. 

HATORI: You can definitely do it. Later.

TAKASHI: Wait, who did you even talk to?

But Hatori already hung up. He starts coughing soon after. Coughing turns into a collapse. He dies.

_______

L informs Soichiro that Gerald Coil was hired to find him and also that that’s him. Soichiro finds the double identity thing morally questionable, due to being a trap. L is unimpressed. Also L wants to bug the Yotsuba building.

________

At Misa’s movie shoot. Misa refuses the kiss, as in the manga.

MISA: I have a reputation, you know. A brand.

DIRECTOR (angry): A-ha. And this is just a movie!! In reality, you’re not an angel!! And Hideki doesn’t even fancy girls in reality either!!

MISA (chuckles darkly): I’ll believe that.

So... here we have our canon gay character for the drama, done for a homophobic joke. Woohoo. The director continues to be displeased with Misa as an amateur actress and wants to talk to her manager.

_________

Inside Yotsuba, Matsuda justifies entering the building by being Misa’s manager. Arguing in the background, between a man and a woman. The woman rushes off to the lady’s restroom. The man, with a heavy French accent, tries to excuse her behaviour. This distracts the lady from the reception long enough for Matsuda to slip away.

________

L and Soichiro still argue about ethics, especially in light of L’s coworkers being criminals. Wedy is called Wendy here and Aiber is called Ivor, do NOT ask me why, I have no answers. 

The poor Yotsuba secretary tries to mediate between Wendy and Ivor by following Wendy into the lady’s room to deliver a message from Ivor. Wendy, however, is not in the lady’s room anymore.

She now notices that they are intruders and calls Namikawa. Namikawa does not take it seriously. He runs into Matsuda after the phonecall. Matsuda offers Misa as image girl for Yotsuba to him. 

_________

Wendy and Ivor are placing bugs and cameras. Wendy and Ivor call each other ‘babe’. Ivor still has the hideous French accent. He also... caused a minor fire as distraction for them. Neat, Ivor.

_________

Matsuda informs everyone that he got Misa an interview at Yotsuba. He had no idea they were already bugging the building. Wendy casually thanks him for giving them more time for being in the building. Matsuda is shocked to find Wendy and Ivor are part of the team.

The cameras are now operational and they can watch today’s meeting live.

OOI: Gentlemen, let’s begin.

[fly-pow-bye]

DuckTales 2017 – “Friendship Hates Magic!”

Story by: Francisco Angones, Madison Bateman, Colleen Evanson, Christian Magalhaes, Bob Snow, Rachel Vine

Written by: Rachel Vine

Storyboard by: Stephanie Gonzaga, Victoria Harris, Vaughn Tada, Brandon Warren

Directed by: Matthew Humphreys

No ponies here, headless or otherwise.

While we've seen a conclusion of at least one part of the Della plot, one other little thing from the season finale hasn't really been elaborated on outside of the occasional mention of Magica De Spell. Specifically: while we know whatever happened to Della Duck, and have a clue on whatever happened to Donald Duck, we never really found out whatever happened to Lena since she became Webby's shadow. Needless to say, it's a long story.

This is the episode where that plot continues. I will say this: Lena plots don't have good track records with me. I liked Jaw$, and The Shadow War was great, too, which was pretty much a foregone conclusion since it was the season finale. However, there's also Terror of the Terra-Firmians and The Other Bin of Scrooge McDuck, two episodes I almost gave a Disgusted Donald to. Granted, neither are because of Lena in particular, but still. Which column will this episode fall in? We're about to find out.

Our episode begins with Webby going to the library, because she loves the smell of thinking in the morning. Gotta get that reference out of the way. Oh, and Lena is here now, as an invisible, unhearable shadow being. While nobody else can see or hear her, the audience sees her as this black and green version of herself. Lena says that she's fine with her current situation, though it's quite clear from the tone of her voice that it's more in comparison to any alternative.

Webby doesn't want to do that even if she could hear Lena, so she's continuing her impossible mission to find a book at the library that can teach her about the shadow realm. Yami Yugi is nowhere to be seen, but we do get Mrs. Quackfaster. I guess Scrooge isn't paying her enough so she has to double as the amount of libraries she works at to get that sweet retirement at Birdaydos. Er, Bird-baaaaaay-dos. She tells her that she can't offer the particular book she's looking for.

It's because this new character already checked it out. Webby is shocked, because this book is only in Ancient Syriac, but this "odd girl" happens to know a lot of ancient languages. She introduces herself as Violet Sabrewing, and, after bonding over knowing conversational Akkadian, she offers to stay at her place, possibly overnight. In other words, and eventually Webby's: a sleepover.

Webby, of course, accepts, but Lena does not.  It's almost as if she's read Disney Now's description of this episode, which refers to her as this "suspicious new friend". Then again, it may be because of the way Webby's last sleepovers ended. She wouldn't be the only one to remind her of this.

As Mrs. Beakley gives us the excuse for why we're not going to see Scrooge or the boys in this episode, they're busy in the office for Bin-ventory Day, Webby barges in and tells her grandmother she's having a friend come over for a sleepover. Mrs. Beakley is proud that her granddaughter wants to do another sleepover after the last two ended with money sharks and unicorn fights in the other bin. Gotta love those casual previous episode references that could still work as fantastic off-screen adventures to those who don't know.

Lena is excited that Mrs. Beakley could talk her out of this, and tries to jinx Webby again by saying "cancel the sleepover." Needless to say, that jinx doesn't work out like the library one, as Webby has a different idea.

Instead, Webby decides to have the most normal sleepover ever, as she tries to hide everything that is supernatural in the house, and try to just be normal. Mrs. Beakley attempts to say that the best way to make a good impression on her new friend is to be herself

Mrs. Beakley: ...barring from that summer undercover in Paraguay.

Webby brushing aside what is most likely the origin story for one of her parents, hey, we were all thinking it, she tells her Granny that she's not like her, because she needs friends. After Webby walks away, she tells her to name one person she doesn't get along with.

Enter Launchpad McQuack, inept pilot and ruiner of any plan to make this the first DuckTales episode with only female characters. To disprove Webby's accusation, she decides to invite him for a "sup", and spends a little more time than she wants explaining what she meant. Lena episodes sure seem to love the B-plots that, for the most part, never really seem to converge with the A-plot. This will be another one that fits with the "for the most part".

Going back to the other planned meeting, Webby is all done storing magic rocks in the attic, and her new friend has arrived for the normal slumber party for normal people. She tells Duckworth to get the door, and then realizes that ghost butlers don't help out at slumber parties. Surprisingly, that's not one of the Bailey School Kids books.

After slicing Duckworth's ghostly form in half, him not appreciating it in the slightest, she opens the door to Violet and her totally normal pie. As Webby shows her awkwardness with this whole situation, Lena is not amused, saying she isn't buying it. See, I didn't pull that out of nowhere, Lena hates this girl. I mean, maybe it's a bit convenient that this girl happens to have the same shadow realm-related interests as Webby.

Violet is then brought to Webby's room, and Violet looks around to see all the places that clearly used to have mysterious objects in them. She just says it looks clean, but I can imagine she did not miss that.

Meanwhile, Launchpad tries, and struggles, to drink pea soup from a straw. Mrs. Beakley tries her best to deal with this.

One section she was focused on was this section about Tulpas, an actual concept in the world of mysticism. This whole concept sort of reminded her of that one time all the shadows came alive and...

Webby: Who wants Baggle?!

Violet actually does want Baggle, but wants this obvious distraction some other time. Webby responds that it's just her way to get to know each other a bit more, and suggests asking some ice-breakers. Violet's first icebreaker:

Violet: What do you know about Magica De Spell and the Shadow War?

Lena, feeling completely vindicated, tries to tell Webby that she said the "M" word! I wouldn't say she forgot that nobody can hear her; she's like those people who yell at the characters while watching TV. Heh, nerds. Webby has a different "M" word in mind: makeovers! Violet is clearly not buying this at all, but goes along with the makeovers anyway.

Violet ends up leaving her backpack behind, fully opened, and Lena notices something that definitely shouldn't be in there if she was an ordinary girl who just happened to really like shadow people: Magica's amulet! She runs off to try to warn Webby, and...okay, maybe she still thinks she can hear her, even though she never once acknowledged her existence. She does end up at least finding Webby, except she's now a zombie, complete with one of her eyes falling out.

That fake-out turns out to be Violet and Webby's idea for a make-up session. Webby praises her best friend's make-up, saying that she looks just like the demon named Rakshasa. She's definitely a great friend, I don't know a lot of people who would take kindly to being told "you look like a demon!" Webby should know what Rakshasa looks like, because she met him in a previous adventure, and she has proof...that is definitely not in the attic. Oops.

Webby relents and lets her into the attic, as this cover was completely blown. She was obviously interested in these things, so she doesn't mind that Webby happened to have some magic rocks. They never really explain what those magic rocks are, and I'd like to think I am a little beyond the obvious joke there. She also notices some ectoplasmic energies from that friendship bracelet.

The scene switches from their point of view to Lena's in a neat way, where Lena still thinks she can alter anything here. Sadly for her, Lena is also intangible. Thankfully for her, Webby distracts her from that bracelet, and offers that game of Baggle again. Violet agrees on one condition: they need to use Demogorgan runes. I don't want to reveal that I'm just looking up every one of these words on Wikipedia, so I'll be quiet.

Meanwhile, Launchpad tries, and struggles, to color a coloring book, and then eventually tries to get Mrs. Beakley to get into Darkwing Duck. Mrs. Beakley tries her best to deal with this.

...okay, maybe I shouldn't just brush this off for this running gag, since this scene has quite a bit of lore to get into Jim Starling's eventual big role in The Duck Knight Returns...but maybe I'll wait for that one.

Back to this game of runes, it just so happens that book has the right chant to make those dice-like runes glow green. Lena tries what might be her 50th attempt to actually affect anything as a intangible shadow person. She's shocked to find that it actually worked this time!

She then tries to rearrange the runes to spell out a message. Unfortunately, since these people are nerds, they think it's the writing on the runes that have any meaning, and not how this layout is shaped like the words "don't trust her." Not getting anywhere with these mysterious messages about rat messages, Violet tries another shadow spirit summoning trick: humming this melody. It works...but only Lena can see these white spirits ominously creeping out from the dark. She has to think of something.

She tries to manipulate a white sheet in a form of a ghost. This actually works, because of ghost cliches that even Lena is aware of, but it doesn't solve the "they can't hear me" problem. Violet decides to use a weapon against the one evil spirit they can see, and it turns out this weapon happens to be Magica's amulet. One side effect is that this amulet allowed her to actually see and hear Lena for a second, which is enough to clue Webby in on what is really happening. However, that is only the second most of her worries.

The main side effect is that it finally gets Webby to realize that maybe this girl may not be what she seems. Just like Lena wanted her to, she starts to question their future friendship, and asks everything she knows.

It’s here that we finally get her backstory, or at least her claimed backstory. She was just an ordinary Muggle, having no interest in magic or anything else of the sort. Then, everything changed when the Shadow War happened, and. Oh, and she just stumbled across Magica's cane, which turned back into the amulet. That's pretty much it. We don't know if she's completely telling the truth...

...but Webby buys it completely, to the disappointment of Lena, and they start to do a seance. You see these shadow beings that look like the shadow of Magica De Spell. This, of course, gets Lena to attempt to grab them again.

I hate to spoil this, but I will say that this seance does lead to Lena being able to drag Webby and Violet into the shadow realm. No, not that one, thankfully. We get a big reunion, but this hug doesn't get to last long, as Webby and Violet finally get to see those white shadow ghosts.

That was spoiler enough, so I'll run through this: a big chase scene happens here, and it all leads to a good conclusion to this episode. Even the "tulpas" from the earlier scene comes up, as that turns out to be a little bit closer than one might guess from the opening of the scene. Here's a hint: they don't just stay in this Magica-like form.

In a sort of fake-out transition from that mayhem, we see what is the conclusion to the Launchpad trying to get Mrs. Beakley into Darkwing Duck plot. Turns out, they both got really excited over a cliffhanger ending. Unfortunately, in this universe, that was how Darkwing Duck ended, with a Woody's Roundup-esque cliffhanger. I usually don't talk about future episodes, but this will be given more detail in The Duck Knight Returns.

What were those shadow beings? Will Lena ever learn to trust Webby's new friend? Should Lena ever learn to trust Webby's new friend? Most importantly, while we got the reunion, will it last? At least some of those questions will be answered by watching the episode. It was a treat to see one of those answers in the end, something I thought I wouldn't see until the end of this season.

How does it stack up?

This episode didn't give me anything to dislike, and a lot to like. The biggest challenge this episode had was introducing this new character. I'll say this, without spoiling anything: while she doesn't have any Earth-shattering twists like Lena did, yet, she has potential.

I kind of skipped over the Launchpad bits, I can admit they're all pretty funny. Obviously, it wasn't going to be something as big as the A-plot, but just something minor and maybe even a little bit cute.

In the end, it's definitely in the Jaw$ column.

Next, I actually find a way to talk about The Powerpuff Girls...and not those ones!

← Raiders of the Doomsday Vault! 🦆 The Dangerous Chemistry of Gandra Dee! →

[belsmomaus]

Flower (the one where Magnus realizes that he really, really hates seeing flowers in the Seelie Queens hands)

Read on AO3

“Magnus,” Alec complained against his lips, “we should-”

Magnus didn’t let him finish, instead he pressed even closer, using the desk behind Alec to his advantage, effectively caging him in. His fingers scraped through the short hair at Alec’s neck.

“They won’t mind, if we’re a little late,” he purred, stealing another kiss from those delicious lips. He wasn’t quite ready to share his Alexander with his work yet. Not after having him all to himself for a whole week.

And although those sweet and pliant lips on his said one thing, the gentle push against his shoulders spoke another language. “But I do.”

He sighed and took a step back, accepting Alec’s wishes, but not without a pout. “They all know it’s your first day back at work. Your first day as a married man.” He took the other’s left hand, lifted it up and entwined their fingers right in their lines of sight. The golden wedding bands on their hands flashed in the light. “The first Shadowhunter ever married to a Downworlder in a ceremony recognized by the Clave.” His voice shook a little, still overwhelmed with the magnitude of change. Change he’d always thought impossible. He quickly changed the subject back to things he could comprehend without frying his brain.

“A Downworlder, I might add, who’s got it on good authority that the other council members won’t mind if we take a few more minutes to...”

There’s a knock on the door, hard and urgent. Even if it weren’t, Magnus knew when he’d lost a battle. He wouldn’t get another taste of his husband. Not until after the meeting at least.

The door opened. The interruption alone not rude enough, no, whoever it was also thought it acceptable to barge in without waiting for an answer. No matter how far they’ve come politically, manners were obviously still a work in progress for nephilims.

“Alec, you need to-” Jace rushed in, then stopped and trailed off as he realized that he’d interrupted a moment.

Alec lowered their joined hands, but he didn’t let go. Such a little thing and yet it still made his heart fill with warmth. “I know, we’re late. I’m sorry, Jace. We were just about to-”

“Alec,” Jace interrupted. There’s an urgency about him that let all kinds of alarms go off in Magnus’ mind. “She is here!”

She? What’s that’s supposed to…

His heart skipped a beat.

No!

“Why?” Alexander asked, straight and serious and in full blown ‘Head of the Institute’-mode, whereas Magnus was still stuck on a disbelieving ‘what?’.

Jace shook his head. “I don’t know. She just showed up, said she’d attend this meeting herself. I don’t like this Alec. The last time she came in person...” Jace trailed off, his eyes darted to Magnus. Only for a second, but Magnus didn’t miss it. Didn’t miss the unspoken reminders hanging in the air.

“This can’t be good.” He hadn’t meant to say it. It had just slipped out.

“We better get going then,” Alec said and tugged him along towards the door. “Let’s find out what the Seelie Queen wants.”

***

You could’ve cut through the tension in the atmosphere with a seraph blade, for Magnus doubted that anything else would’ve been sharp enough to actually cut it.

Luke made no attempt to hide his wariness. Every muscle in his body was tense as he leaned as far back as his chair allowed to have them all in plain sight.

Raphael was his usual indifferent self, at least on the surface. Magnus knew him too well to not notice the telltale signs of his unease.

Alexander next to him sat tall, his back straight, his face exuding nothing but polite professionalism. His hands, clasped in front of him on the table, gave him away, though, with his knuckles white with pressure.

The Queen practically throned on her seat opposite Alec, regal and beautiful and dangerous, although her youthful appearance might have fooled anybody who didn’t know her. No doubt she was very well aware of the tension all around, yet she chose to completely ignore it. Instead her ancient gaze rested on him and Alexander and this creepy little smile played across her lips that sent chills down his spine.

Facing that gaze was the hardest thing he’d done in quite a while. Her mere presence here woke up memories he’d rather forget. Memories of darker times. Of grave mistakes and betrayals, on all sides. He had trusted her then, enough to safe his people. In the end he had lost his title, had almost lost Alec while she had made a deal with the enemy. His anger at that still burned hot inside his veins. As did the shame for his own actions.

He clenched his teeth and squared his shoulders. He would not let her get to him this time.

She had yet to speak apart from that greeting earlier. Her motives for her being here still unknown – although they would probably stay that way, with seelies and their fable for concealing the truth behind so many veils you couldn’t possibly dream to even get a glimpse at it.

Maybe that thought sounded overly bitter.

Maybe it was just his worry talking.

No one had seen her since that affair with Valentine. Sure, she had sent Meliorn to the meetings afterwards to represent the seelies’ interests, but other than that she’d stayed hidden and silent. No more far-from-funny games with either of them, not even with Simon.

But now she was here again.

In person.

With Meliorn right behind her, striking as ever and poised like a bodyguard. Although he wore casual clothes instead of armor, light and elegant, which didn’t go unnoticed by any of them. And it was that fact that Magnus put all his hope on.

But even with no obvious declaration of war, seelies were unpredictable. Their queen more than anyone else.

“Well,” Alec started, “I can’t help but wondering: what brings you here in person this time, your Highness?”

She cocked her head to the side. “This is the Downworld meeting, is it not? All the other respective Downworld leaders are here in person, so why shouldn’t I come in myself from time to time?”

“Of course you can,” Alec was quick to assure her, “it’s just that you leaving your realm for a normal meeting with no notable topics to discuss is rather… unusual.”

Magnus snorted. Only in his mind, of course!

Her eyes flicked up, their blue bright amidst the golden dust that peppered her eyes like make-up. “Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, Mr. Lightwood. There are two notable topics to discuss.”

There was this cold, heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach all of a sudden. There was nothing of significance to discuss today, so if she thought there was, then those topics were very important to the seelies and therefore to her. He racked his brain for anything that would explain her actions, any hints that Meliorn might have made. The relationship between the Downworld and the Clave was better than it has been in centuries – which was frankly freaking him out some days – and the relationships between the Downworlders themselves were closer than they’ve been in a very long time. For once they experienced something that actually deserved the name ‘peace’, so what could possibly warrant a visit with the intention to discuss notable topics from the Queen herself?

Raphael’s gaze darted towards him, seeking understanding that Magnus couldn’t offer.

Luke fidgeted in his seat.

And Alec merely raised an eyebrow at her, although the knuckles of his hands had turned a tad whiter. “I’m not aware of any current disturbances in the Shadow World, but if you’ve got important issues to bring in front of this council, then I’m all ears. We all are. That’s what this council is there for after all.”

“Well spoken, Mr. Lightwood,” the Queen acknowledged with a nod and a private little smile. “The first issue, if you want to call it that, would be the matter of your recent union.” Her gaze switched from Alec to him and back again, before she tilted her head and rolled her eyes up in thought. “Marriage, you call it, if I’m not mistaken.”

He couldn’t help it, he looked over to Alexander, caught his gaze. It seemed they were both equally out of the loop here.

“I think congratulations are in order, Mr. Lightwood, Mr. Bane.”

Magnus blinked. And for a moment he’s lost for words.

Alec didn’t fare much better.

Magnus could see the same confusion and uncertainty in his husbands eyes that made himself wary. When Alec reached out his hand, he offered his own without hesitation, glad for the comfort of his touch as well.

And he finally found his voice again. “Thank you.” But it’s Lightwood-Bane now.

He just couldn’t summon the same politeness Alec did. He was still too pissed with her. And obviously still too stunned to correct her. As was Alec.

“That’s too kind of you. But I doubt that’s the main reason that led you here today.”

“And why would you say that, Mr. Lightwood? Your marriage wasn’t just any union between two people who happen to love each other. I think you haven’t fully grasped the importance of that event yet.”

Alright, he finally got an idea of what she was referring to in her own mysterious – or rather elaborate – way. And if he was right, then it enraged him even more, because she had a point. And there was nothing more infuriating than when someone you’re angry with was actually right about something.

“You, Mr. Lightwood, have done more for the Downworld in those last years than I would’ve ever thought possible from a shadowhunter. You treat anyone with the same respect and justice, no matter their blood. Which in and off itself is admirable. But you not only married a Downworlder, the first Head of an Institute to ever do so, you got the Clave to recognize that union as equal. You proofed that even the Clave can change.” A mischievous grin tugged at her lips. “At least when faced with the powerful and stubborn force that is one Alexander Lightwood.”

So she had finally gotten the message as well.

Magnus might have allowed his own bitterness to get a hold of him, hadn’t that squeeze of his hand directed his attention to Alexander. Who cleared his throat and ever so subtly averted his eyes. Even after everything – his dear Alexander was still too humble to be comfortable with such praise.

All the more reason to love him.

“As it turned out,” she continued and when Magnus looked back at her, he suddenly found himself at the receiving end of her piercing gaze, “letting your crush get in the way was the answer to protecting all our people.”

The words stung. A biting reminder of that glorious mistake of taking his chances with her instead of Alec. He swallowed against the memory, a biting remark already on his lips. It died there, like acid on his tongue, as that damn woman didn’t even give him the chance to retaliate.

“Which leads me directly to my second reason for coming here.” She straightened her shoulders, tilted her chin up a bit and her eyes flickered across them all. And Magnus realized in wonder that she was nervous.

That more than anything stunned him into curious silence.

“I have already ruled my people for a long time when even the oldest of you was just a child.” Her gaze singled him out, for obvious reasons. He held that gaze and for the first time he thought he could glimpse said age in more than her eyes. It sent chills down his spine. “And in all that time I have never done what I am about to do now. But with recent developments, with not just peace, but respectful cooperation between all Shadow Worlders for the first time ever, with all that change in the world it might be time for my people to change as well.”

The silence in the room was palpable. It was like a living, breathing entity that used up all the air. History was about to be made, they could all feel it.

He was glad for Alexander’s hand in his.

“And it is my duty as their Queen to show them the path. I want to honor our peaceful cooperation by respecting you and your customs. I hereby apologize to you all.”

His mouth went slack. He couldn’t help it. He could only stare.

“Mr. Graymark, Mr. Santiago, Mr. Bane, I apologize for betraying your allegiance by cutting a deal with our enemy. And Mr. Lightwood, I apologize for judging your character too hasty and by the low standards countless generations of shadowhunters have set in the past. I apologize to you all for aiding our enemy in almost achieving his goals to destroy us all.”

The sound of sporadic shaky breaths rattled eerily loud in the room. Speechless didn’t really cut it. This was the most unheard action Magnus had ever witnessed. And he’d seen a lot of odd or extraordinary things in his long life.

But the Seelie Queen apologizing?

To them?

To a shadowhunter?

Magnus blinked. Squeezed Alec’s hand. Forced his open mouth shut. Took a deep breath. One action at a time and all the while he tried to get his reeling mind back to work.

That’s when he noticed the way Meliorn was eyeing his queen. His posture was still all proud warrior and protector, but there was something in his eyes, the faintest trace of shocked disbelief that told him that Meliorn hadn’t known about his queen’s betrayal.

Either that or he hadn’t known what she’d intended to do upon coming here.

To his surprise, it was Luke who found his voice again first. “On behalf of the New York packs I accept your apology, my Lady.”

Raphael nodded, still visibly stunned. “As do I on behalf of the New York vampires.”

No matter if he liked her or not, that woman earned his respect for what she’d just done.

He bowed his head at her. “I cannot speak for all the warlocks in New York, but on behalf of the community in Brooklyn, I accept your apology.”

“I know from experience how hard it can be to overcome ancient habits and rules and open up to change and yet I cannot begin to fathom how difficult it must have been for you to do what you did just now. I appreciate your gesture and accept your apology on behalf of the shadowhunters. May this be the start to a more trusting future!”

Magnus thought he stared again, only this time at Alec. If this went on he’d make an even bigger fool of himself as he already had. But when had his Alexander become so good with words?

The Queen smiled. Her posture was lighter, the nervousness gone again. That mischievous twinkle was back in her eyes.

And Magnus was reminded again, that she still was a seelie.

“Funny that you phrased it like that.”

And the tension was back in the room.

“I have a wedding present for the both of you.”

That was honestly the last thing he’d expected.

She reached down and pulled something from somewhere in between the fluttering light-blue layers of her dress. Cradling it between both her hollowed hands, she stood up to reach further across the table and gently put down a pale pink blossom right in front of them.

Magnus recoiled. Every instinct within him was screaming at him to refuse this gift. If he never saw that woman presenting him with a flower again it was still too soon! Even years later the pain of bad decisions, of almost loosing Alec still hurt. It didn’t help that this one looked completely different. It was bigger and of a dark, reddish pink instead of blood red. But most of all, it wasn’t a fresh blossom. It looked stiff and waxy.

And it was practically pulsing with magic.

Alec studied the blossom with interest as well as confusion. And a healthy dose of skepticism. “What is it?”

“It’s a coimeasg.” Even if he had another century, he doubted he’d ever be able to wrap his tongue around pronouncing whatever the hell just came out of her mouth. “It is one of the most sacred gifts a queen is able to make. Till today it has never been bestowed on anyone without seelie blood.”

It might be a never before seen honor to be presented with one of these-- blossoms, that still didn’t mean he had to like it, though.

“Forgive my ignorance, your Highness,” Alexander said, diplomat through and through, ��I get that this is a great honor, but I still don’t know what it is. What do you do with it?”

She smiled again. This time for real. Her whole face became softer, her eyes alight with mirth. “It’s a hibiscus blossom. Glacéed. You eat it.”

Laughter pearled from her lips, light and fresh and childlike. Nothing about it sounded condescending and yet Magnus couldn’t help feeling that that’s exactly what it was.

Did she really expect them to simply take her word for it and just eat it?

“My Lady,” he started, tone suave, smile in place, but a quiet warning right there in the intensity of his gaze, “I’ve seen up close what your people’s food can do to those who don’t share your blood. That’s something I neither desire for my husband nor myself. Especially when it’s obvious that your gift is more than just a sweet treat. Otherwise it wouldn’t be treated with such appreciation.” A one-sided grin tugged at his lips, maybe a tad too sly for this setting. He didn’t care. “And there’s the fact that it’s so saturated with magic that my fingers tingle with it.”

The Queen nodded his way, an approving smile on her face. “It’s hard to miss, I guess. And I didn’t expect you to eat it simply because I gave it to you. I expect you to eat it because you want to.”

Seriously?

He couldn’t think of anything that would possibly make him want to eat some highly magical flower from the seelie realm.

“I’m not sure-” Alec said, unsure and hesitating, but the Queen didn’t let him speak his mind.

“Transparency. That was your goal for this council, right, Mr. Lightwood? Complete transparency in all matters that regard the Downworld.”

Alexander nodded.

“Very well then. To a seelie marriage is a foreign concept. We love to love, without caring for age or gender, all that stupid nonsense humans are so peculiar about. The love of a seelie burns bright like a star and just like the light of a star it rarely falls on just one person at a time. The love of a seelie is fleeting like the wind, drawn to new adventures, for staying to long in one place means stagnation. My people are the spirit of nature itself, and nature is in constant flux, always growing, rebuilding, reinventing itself. Stagnation – boredom – is the most detrimental thing that can happen to a seelie.”

For a second time the room was stunned into silence.

Sure, Magnus had had dealings with a lot of seelies in his long life, he’d shared his bed with some and even his heart with one or two, nothing of what the Queen had just said was new to him, but it had taken him centuries to figure some of it out. No matter how close you got, most seelies were anything but forthcoming with information about themselves or their people.

And yet here she was, the Seelie Queen herself, sharing intimate information about her people with outsiders. With a shadowhunter.

The question was: why?

“It’s very rare, but sometimes two seelies find each other and their love isn’t fleeting and burns just for one another without ever falling prey to stagnation in their hearts. On the contrary, their union only makes them shine brighter, a beacon of vitality and innovation. And inspiration. Such pairs are cherished among my people and it is my honor as their queen to present them with the coimeasg, the sacred blossom in front of you.”

Was she talking about something like-- soulmates?

Was that…

His thoughts suddenly came to a staggering stop as it slowly dawned on him: she thought them – Alexander and him – to be like those rare and special seelies. That the love they shared equaled that wondrous connection that she couldn’t understand but held in the highest of regards. That together they shone brighter than separate. And although Alexander had done most of the visible work, bringing about change these last years had been a joint effort. Not just of the two of them, but there was no denying that they had been at the center of it.

Inspiring others.

It left him speechless.

“I’m,” Alexander started, his voice rough with wonder, then cleared his throat. He gave his hand a quick squeeze, just enough to make him tear his eyes away from the queen and look at his husband. To everyone else it was just a quick glance, to them it was a wordless conversation. “We are honored to receive this sacred gift from you, your Highness. It seems to hold a lot of meaning to your people, but I fear we still don’t grasp the full meaning of it. What is this--” For a second it actually looked as if his brave and sometimes adorably stupid husband wanted to try himself at the seelie word itself, before he thought better of it. “--blossom?”

There was something open and warm in her gaze as she answered, something that didn’t fit her cryptic answer in typical seelie fashion at all. “It’s a chance.”

Just as Magnus was about to ask ‘a chance for what?’, her eyes settled on him, still strangely open, but he could also spot the oceans of centuries in those bright blue orbs.

“You’re afraid of loneliness, Magnus Bane. Living on when those you love find their natural end, being left alone with the pain of their loss. You try to ignore it, but it nags at you from the inside. That blossom is your chance to banish your greatest fear forever.”

His heart was racing, his palms sweaty. How could she know?

He felt the others’ gazes on him, Luke’s pity and Raphael’s silent support and Alexander’s guilt. And he hated it. Hated that she had laid his vulnerabilities open for everyone to see.

And what did she mean by that? How could that magical blossom take his fear of the hopefully distant future away?

The Queen gave no answers to the questions that were undoubtedly easy to read on his face right now. She merely settled her ancient eyes on Alec. And Magnus was surprised to notice that he was both curious and afraid of what she might say to him.

“For you, Alexander Lightwood, it is far more difficult and yet quite simple.” Great, could she be any more cryptic? “The coimeasg is your chance at immortality.”

***

“No way, Alexander!” He shook his head vehemently. It didn’t take long before he couldn’t stand that nervous itch in his bones a second longer. He started pacing again. Alec’s office wasn’t made for pacing.

Alec leaned against his desk, his arms crossed, and sighed.

How could he be so calm?

“Why not? Give me one good reason, Magnus!”

“One?” He stopped abruptly and stared at his husband as if he’d just turned into a goat. “One?” he said again, voice raised now as he threw his arms up in his disbelief, his frustration. They grew a life of their own, accompanying each of his words with exaggerated gestures as he started pacing again. “I could give you a dozen! More even! But you want one? Fine, one you shall have: she’s a seelie! And she’s not just any seelie, she’s their queen! She’s a master manipulator. She had countless centuries to perfect the art of bending the truth by withholding just enough information to lead you astray and into her trap. Without ever telling a lie.”

The answering eye-roll pissed him off. Even more so than the annoyed tone.

“Haven’t we been over this already?”

“Obviously not,” he hissed back, “since you still don’t see it!” He spun around again at the end of the room, his pulse still racing, driving him into another round across the office.

“Magnus!”

Had the room always been this small?

“Magnus!”

A hand at his elbow stopped him in his tracks. His hands twitched. His legs itched to move. He didn’t meet Alexander’s gaze.

“This isn’t about that and you know it. She was different today. Open in a way I have never seen a seelie, let alone the queen. I’ve learned more today than I ever have from any book I’ve ever read. You were there, Magnus! She apologized, revealed sensitive information about her people, answered any question, admitted to not knowing something and on top of all of that: she would gain nothing by hurting us in any way. On the contrary! By the angel, I can’t believe it myself, but I believe she told us the truth. The whole truth!”

He wanted to argue, wanted to dissect each and every point just made and throw it back at Alec. He wanted nothing more, but he couldn’t. The air left his lungs in a shaky exhale and he felt himself deflate like a balloon.

Because Alexander was right.

If he listened to his guts, he knew that for once she had told the truth.

But admitting that also meant facing the real reason for his racing heart and his need to stay in motion, to do something, to not stop, because stopping meant time for thinking. And he couldn’t think.

Couldn’t breathe.

He jerked free of Alexander’s hold and resumed his pacing.

“I could be with you forever. Don’t you want that?”

Don’t I want that? Of course I fucking want that, you idiot, and that’s exactly the problem!

“Didn’t you listen?” he asked instead. “This isn’t just your regular parabatai bond. Our souls would be knitted together in a way that can never be undone. You’re part angel! Would you really taint that with demonic essence? Who knows what consequences that would have? It could burn you. Or turn you into a monster. It would certainly cost you your position with the Clave. It’s not worth it, Alexander!”

Each word hurt like a knife to his chest, but it had to be said.

“What’s wrong with-” Alec mumbled, then stopped. Then started again. “I wouldn’t interweave my soul with a demon, for God’s sake, but with you! You may have demon blood in your veins but the way you love and care for others, the way you fight for what you believe is right, that’s your soul, Magnus. There is nothing demonic about it, and even if there were, I love you just the way you are and nothing about who and what you are could ever hurt me!”

Magnus had to close his eyes at that. His lips pressed together into a thin line.

Tears burned in his eyes.

And that tiny flame deep inside him burned a little brighter. But it couldn’t. He couldn’t allow himself to hope. Couldn’t allow himself to be selfish.

“I don’t care about what the Clave might say or do. This is about us! And Magnus, I promise you, if you ever imply again that you’re a monster I swear I’m gonna smack you in the back of your head!”

Dear Lord, he loved that man so damn much, he wanted to grab him and kiss him senseless. And never, ever let him go again. Instead he barely looked at him, only imagined the way that deep line had probably already settled between Alec’s eyebrows, judging from his exasperated tone. He turned again, frantic and desperate and needy. His magic prickled in his fingers, just as restless. A vase started shaking on its pedestal.

“Look, didn’t you tell me about this friend of yours who was part warlock, part shadowhunter? If that combination is possible, then there’s no reason to worry about this.”

“She said she didn’t know what would happen to us, since no non-seelie has ever done this.”

Alec chuckled. Chuckled. “That’s not what she said, though, isn’t it?” He then turned sober again. “She said she didn’t know in what way our bond would manifest. It might connect us body and soul and give us the ability to communicate telepathically like it does to seelies. Or it might just tether our life forces together, keeping me at your side for as long as you live.”

Magnus swallowed against the lump in his throat. “You would die the moment I die, no matter if it’s tomorrow or in a thousand years,” he rasped. He couldn’t bare the thought of being the reason for Alexander’s death.

Alec was suddenly right in front of him, blocking his path. His hands settled on his shoulders. He felt trapped by it.

“Magnus, look at me!”

Against better judgement he did. The look in Alexander’s eyes made his heart melt and his chest tight. So open and sad and honest.

He wanted to flee.

He wanted to get closer and drown in those eyes.

“I told you before,” Alec said. “I can’t live without you. And I don’t want to.”

He should argue with that. Should tell him otherwise. That life was too precious to tie it all on just one person.

But he couldn’t.

“I don’t want to live without you, either.”

“Magnus-”

“The Queen was right, Alexander. Losing you one day, it’s… I don’t think I could face a single day knowing you’re dead, let alone all of eternity. I just can’t.”

Strong arms wrapped around him all of a sudden and he found himself on the receiving end of a tight hug. Alec’s breath tickled the short hairs behind his ear as he spoke. “Well, it’s a good thing then, that our lives would be tied together either way. We’d have all the time in the world, together. And if the worst should happen… well, it seems not even death would be able to part us.”

There’s that smile in his voice again. That smile that nudged that flame of hope in his chest.

If only he could snuff it out and be rid of that pain.

If only he could selfishly embrace it and nurture it into a roaring flame.

Didn’t Alexander understand? Immortality wasn’t a gift!

He pulled back, back from the embrace, back from Alexander. He had to if he wanted to have any chance at doing the right thing.

And it was the right thing.

He couldn’t be selfish. Not now. Not with what’s at stake.

Oh, but he wanted to. He wanted to.

Alec’s frown deepened as he stepped back and turned away, effectively shaking off the last remaining touch that connected them. “Magnus, what-- I don’t understand! This is- In about ten hours the magic in the blossom will dissipate. A chance like this will never come again. So why-” His voice broke. There was a sharp inhale and a shaky exhale. “Why don’t you want me around forever? Immortal like you?”

Magnus couldn’t stand that terrible hurt that oozed out of every last syllable. Couldn’t stand to hear it, so in hindsight, looking up at Alec was probably a stupid idea. Because looking at it, at the pain of rejection glistening wetly in his eyes, at the total lack of understanding, was so much worse. It robbed him of his last breath, his chest so tight his lungs refused to work.

And it had been his own doing that put that kind of pain in those beautiful eyes.

Something in him snapped.

“Of course I want you by my side forever!” His voice boomed as he whirled around again, his hands flying wildly to press the message home. Blue magic swirled around his fingers, just as wild and all over the place as his emotions.

Somewhere behind him something exploded into a million pieces.

“I don’t want to lose you decade by decade, watching the life bleed out of you year by year while I stay the same. I don’t-- Alexander, even the thought, the possibility of a forever with you-- But I can’t ask this of you! I just can’t! I can’t rip you away from your family like that.  From your sister. From your parabatai. I can’t-”

“Hey!”

Alec was suddenly there, right in front of him, his rough voice so soft and warm and caring, like the gentlest of caresses.

Magnus couldn’t take it.

Selfish! So selfish!

He pressed his eyes shut. He could still feel him, smell him. So close and yet so far away. So close and yet not close enough.

Calloused hands cupped his face, so gentle as if Alec was afraid he might break. Maybe he would.

Maybe he already had.

His long fingers rested against his neck, warm and reassuring, while his thumbs stroked across his cheeks. And came away wet.

When had he started to cry?

“Just breathe, okay?” And he found that he could. So he did. First one shaky breath, then another. “Good. Now look at me, Magnus! Please.”

His eyes opened on their own accord, looking up at his husband, taking him in. Already he’d changed so much since the day they’d met. The lines of his chin and jaw more defined, the first laughter lines visible around his eyes. Tiny still, but yet a reminder that time flies.

There was something bright in Alec’s eyes, almost gleaming.

“Do you want me?”

His heart beat heavily against his ribs, each thump echoing in his ears. And he heard himself answer, his voice hoarse and barely above a whisper: “More than anything in this world, but-”

Warm lips were suddenly on his, kissing him ever so softly. Slowly. A quiet fervor tangible underneath every motion. Reverent and passionate at the same time.

And some of that nervous energy within him just melted away. His shoulders sagged and he took an involuntary step closer. One of Alec’s hand let go of his face and wrapped around him. Held him close.

He wanted to sink into those arms and forget about everything.

He could have this forever.

He wanted this forever.

He wanted this so badly. But he didn’t dare hope.

It’s hard and he’s not sure how he did it, but he put his hands on Alec’s chest and pushed him away, just enough to stop the kiss. To look at him again and finally drive the message home.

“But what about Izzy? What about Jace? Your parabatai bond would most likely dissolve. I don’t want you to-”

“Magnus.” Again those big hands that he knew every inch of closed around his face and held him in place. Alec leaned closer. “I would need to speak with Jace, of course, but- we’ve always been closer than brothers, even before our bond. We’ll stay just as close without it. Jace knows me in a way that no one else does. And he knows what it’s like to share a bond like this. If anyone will understand then it’s probably him!”

The flame in his chest flared, just a bit. Careful. Hesitant.

But it burned brighter nonetheless.

“You’re right. I love my family, my friends. But this isn’t about them. It’s about you and me, Magnus. And I love you, more than anything.”

There’s an intensity in Alec’s eyes that he’d never seen before. It sent shivers down his spine.

In the end it’s just four words. So full of conviction.

“I want this, Magnus!”

And the flame erupted into a blazing fire.

***

“Uncle Magnus?”

“Huh?” He turned around to find big, dark eyes looking up at him. “Hey my little Jelly Bean, shouldn’t you be in bed already?”

He put his glass down on the nearest flat surface and reached down to lift the little girl up into his arms. She clutched a stuffed wolf against her pink pajamas and looked at him with that adorable little pout that seemed to be deeply rooted into the genetic make-up of the Lightwood family. “Where’s Uncle Alec? He promised a bedtime story.”

“Did he? And now he’s hiding from you? From the most beautiful girl in the room? How rude of him!” She giggled. “You should make him tell you two stories for that!”

“He really should, that mean old uncle!”

“Izzy,” he said in greeting, as she stepped up to the two of them, stunning as always in her dark blue dress, her dark and accurately colored hair falling in soft waves across her shoulders. Not for the first time that night he thought that she looked exactly like Maryse had, especially in that outfit.

She smiled at him, then turned her attention to the little one, all the while reaching out and taking her into her own arms. “How about I get you a nice cup of warm milk while Magnus here goes looking for Uncle Alec, hm?”

The little Jelly Bean nodded quite enthusiastically – and not at all tired as it seemed. “Can I have honey, Grandma?”

Izzy frowned, seemingly contemplating this very carefully. The creases on her brow cut much deeper into her skin than he remembered. “Alright, but don’t tell your mother!”

They already turned towards the kitchen, when she looked back over her shoulder at him. There’s a touch of concern in her dark eyes. “I saw him outside.”

He nodded. He already knew, but there was no need telling her.

He always knew where Alexander was. The knowledge written like an ever changing script into the very fabric of his heart. His eyes crossed the big living room full of people, Shadowhunters and Downworlders alike. Jace was stealing another peace of Izzy’s birthday cake, the one with the big 60 on top, his balding head hard to miss. Before he got one piece, though, Clary appeared out of nowhere and snatched the plate right out of his hand. Some of the kids were dancing. Simon, Madzie and Izzy’s son were currently laughing at some story from the seelie girl Clary’s daughter has been dating for a few weeks now.

Magnus crossed the room, raising an amused eyebrow at Jace’ desperate fight for the piece of cake. Upon crossing the impromptu dancefloor he grabbed one of the dancing boys by the hand, swirling him around in an unexpected, tight spin that made him laugh until ‘Dammit Magnus, I had three glasses of punch already!’.

“Not my problem.” He grinned, but he did stop and headed for the French window.

Once outside he closed it behind him.

And the noise from the party died down to nothing but a pleasant background hum.

It was a beautiful night. No cloud in sight, the moon bright and beautiful. The lights of the city below radiated in accordance with the light from the stars above. It was a bit chilly maybe. Which wasn’t unwelcome after the heat inside and the warm buzz of alcohol in his veins.

Alec wasn’t hard to find, the balcony wasn’t that big. He stood at the other end, where the light from the living room didn’t reach. A lone silhouette in the dark.

Magnus bit his lip.

It wasn’t easy to see the ones you love grow older and older. He knew that more than anyone, but it was still new for Alec. Magnus’ thumb was rubbing the inside of his left wrist again. It was such an unconscious motion he barely ever spotted the beginning of it, only noticed it some time along the way. He traced the image of the hibiscus flower there, outlined by a faint silvery line. Their bond was silent at the moment, humming calmly, simply making it’s presence known, but nothing more. He wasn’t sure if it was a good thing. Just because his husband wasn’t overwhelmed with grief or sadness that would’ve spilled over their bond immediately, didn’t mean that this didn’t affect him.

He stepped away from the door and crossed the balcony. There was no need to make his footsteps heard, Alec knew already that he was here, feeling him just the way Magnus felt him.

The Queen’s gift might not have granted them a telepathic bond like it did to seelies – which, to be honest, he wasn’t unhappy about at all – but it had given them this inbuilt knowledge of the other’s whereabouts – Alec liked to call it ‘his Magnus GPS’.

That, and a connection that wasn’t unlike a parabatai bond, according to Alec.

Alexander was a part of him now in a way he’d never thought possible and couldn’t describe. And yet, somehow, it felt as if this was exactly how it was meant to be.

“I heard someone promised a young lady a bedtime story and then vanished into thin air.”

“Is it that late already?”

“You noticed the darkness around you, right?” he teased, though he couldn’t help the unease settling into his stomach.

Alec hasn’t moved so far, still staring at the city below. Magnus doubted that he saw any of it.

He stepped up behind him, slid his hands around his husband’s waist and leaned his chin on his shoulder. His nose nudged against his neck, the smell of his own cologne mixed with simply Alec tickled his nose in the most delicious way.

“You okay?”

Alec nodded. “Yeah.” But his hands ran down Magnus’ arms until they covered his hands, warm and sure, and he leaned back against him, relaxing into his embrace. His words said ‘yes’, but his body said ‘no’. The truth was somewhere in between, he knew.

“It’s just- 60, Magnus. I never thought we’d even reach that age. Not all of us anyway. And now-- she looks like she could be my mother.”

Magnus sighed, rubbing circles into Alec’s stomach with his thumbs. “The passing of time is always such an abstract thing until we’re faced with it up close. I know this must be hard for you, Alexander. And I’m sorry.”

Alec snuggled closer. “I’m not.”

That surprised him.

“She’s got a great husband and two amazing kids. And this absolutely adorable grandkid. She’s happy, Magnus. They all are.”

Silence fell over them. A car honked in the distance, laughter from a group of guys traveled up through the air. And the soft, but cold breeze slowly but surely threatened his skin with goosebumps.

They all are.

The words resounded in his head. He couldn’t help asking back: are you? Are you happy?

Part of him knows the answer. The other part still needed to hear it.

His voice was barely more than a whisper. And the question that came out was a different one, although, in some ways it probably was just the same.

“Do you regret it?”

Alec turned in his embrace, his face pale against the background of the night. Beautiful. He was absolutely beautiful. Especially with that little smile on his lips. It might be small, but it was that little fond smile he only ever showed when he was content. Happy!

“No.” Alec tilted his head a bit, just enough to press a kiss to his lips. Or more like the promise of a kiss. “Never.”

The darkness of the night enveloped them like a blanket as they stood there and kissed each other. Gentle and slow and warm. There was no rush. Not for them.

Well…

Magnus pulled back, albeit reluctantly. “You should better go, the little Jelly Bean is still waiting for her stories.”

Alec frowned. “Stories?”

He shrugged, trying for an innocent expression, but failed. Not that he’d tried very hard. Where would be the fun in that?

“Magnus? What did you do?”

He grinned. Or maybe it was a smirk? “I might have convinced the little one that she deserves at least two stories now.”

“Magnus!”

“What? You stood her up! That’s no way to treat a lady. Especially not one as adorable as her!”

Alec stared at him in disbelief. Then huffed a laugh and ducked down a bit. “Alright. Fair enough.” He grabbed for Magnus’ hand and pulled him back towards the door and back inside. He didn’t let go as they crossed their friends or the cake or the dancefloor, instead tugging him out of the living room and into the hallway.

Magnus frowned, holding his hand up and pointing it back towards the party. “Um-- “

Alec turned, mischief glinting in his eyes. “What? You thought I’d let you go back to your Martini and that ridiculous dance-off Simon challenged you to? Oh no! You, Mr. Lightwood-Bane, promised a second story to a girl who is insatiable when it comes to stories. You might as well help!”

With a melodramatic sigh he yielded up to his fate.

Utterly content with himself and the world.

[per-ineptia-ad-astra]

Star Trek Episode 1.12: The Menagerie, Part 2

AKA: Talosian Boogaloo 

Our episode begins with a recap of what happened last episode: Spock gone rogue, the Enterprise heading to Talos 4, mysterious transmissions, etc, etc. After the titles, we’re back in the hearing room, where they’ve re-convened Spock’s trial, although they’ve now pared down the participants to just Kirk, Mendez, Pike and Spock. Everyone else who was there for the first part is just going to be left on a cliffhanger. Mendez reiterates that viewing transmissions from Talos 4 is strictly against Starfleet policy, but Spock tells him that the screen is now being remotely controlled and the transmissions are just going to keep coming anyway, so they have no choice but to view them. Although they could try leaving the room so they don’t have to look at the screen. Just a thought.

After Spock gives them a Previously On My Court Martial, the screen comes on again, and we see Pike waking up on a bed in some kind of strange cell. The walls are made of stone bricks but it appears to have been built into a cave, and beyond the transparent front wall of the cell a long rocky corridor stretches forth. Pike wastes very little time in attempting to bash the wall in shoulder-first, but it absorbs the impact with only a slight wobble.

Before he can make any further effort, a door slides open nearby and a quartet of Brainheads—the Talosians, presumably--appear and approach Pike’s cell. Pike starts talking to them, introducing himself as Christopher Pike, commander of the space vehicle Enterprise. Yes, that’s what he said, space vehicle. Well it’s not technically wrong, I guess.

Pike tells them his crew has come in peace, and demands to know if they can understand him. Instead of replying to him, one Talosian starts talking--telepathically--to another as if Pike can’t even hear them, which is the most annoying thing, I hate it when people do that. Specifically, he (...she? they? zie? I have no idea) remarks that “the specimen’s intelligence appears to be shockingly limited.” Wow. Rude. The Talosian leader, referred to as Magistrate, responds that this isn’t surprising since it was so easy to bait the ship here in the first place, and that they can read in Pike’s thoughts that he’s only just now starting to figure out that the encampment was an illusion. They continue to stand around making smug comments about how primitive Pike is while he tries to talk to them. But despite how primitive they find him, he seems to be more adaptable than their other specimens, so they’re ready to start “the experiment.”

Back on the Enterprise, a small group of officers, including Spock, Boyce, Number One, and a red-haired chap who was with the landing party, have convened to discuss just what they’re going to do about the captainnapping. Currently Spock is giving a presentation, in which he hypothesizes that the inhabitants of the planet live underground and manufacture all their living needs down there, because the surface of the planet doesn’t have enough vegetation or animal life to support any kind of civilization. So, as they too have now worked out, the survivors were an illusion all along. A perfect illusion, Boyce bemoans, down to every detail. Well, I don’t know about that, Boyce. I mean one of them was wearing makeup. That really should have been a tip-off.

But the danger is clear to them now. The Talosians can create illusions out of people’s own thoughts, ones that seem completely real to them in every way. That’s going to make it pretty difficult to go up against them. Spock warns that if they attract the Talosians’ attention they might find that their psychic powers are strong enough to easily kill them all. But, as Redhair points out, they can’t just leave Pike down there for the Talosians to have their way with him. Since their hand phasers didn’t bring down the door, he suggests they use the ship’s own power against it, which he says is powerful enough to “blast half a continent.” One would hope he’s exaggerating because if the ship can do that they might bring down the door, alright, but they’d probably be killing Pike and everyone else down there along with it. There’s a reason the usual response to a hostage situation is not to nuke the entire building.

Number One agrees to this plan, though, so the group disperses to go set to work. Back down in the caves, one of the Talosians is reporting to the Magistrate that they’re all hard at work probing Pike’s mind—just his mind, thankfully—and they’ve found excellent memory capacity. The Magistrate notes that Pike has a recent memory of having to fight to save his own life, which they’re going to use now, but give him “something more interesting to protect.” In his cell, Pike is examining the walls for weakness when his surroundings suddenly shift, and he finds himself on a planet surface, looking up at a pink and purple sky with a giant moon hanging on the horizon. Dominating this vista is a large castle beside a waterfront. As Pike stands there going wtf, a woman runs up to him, saying that they must hurry and hide themselves. Pike protests that he was in a cell just a minute ago and now he’s back on Rigel 7 and what’s that about? He reckons that means this is all another illusion pulled out of his memories. This is all happening as it happened back on the real Rigel 7, down to the unseen growling thing that seems to be approaching—except for the woman. She’s new.

As Pike and the mystery woman run towards the castle for cover, we pull back to the present, where Spock comments that this was “a brilliant deduction by Captain Pike.” Well, I don’t know if I would go that far. Once you’ve learned that the telepathic aliens who’ve captured you can create perfect illusions, and you find yourself suddenly in an impossible reconstruction of your own memory, it’s not a big leap to figure out that the telepathic aliens probably did it. Spock goes on to explain, just in case anyone hasn’t realized it yet, that the Talosians could indeed create any illusory world they wanted for Pike, and that even knowing they were illusions would not make him experience them any less vividly.

On the screen, Pike has figured out that the mystery woman is in fact Vina, just with longer hair and a new dress. He finds this quite odd, but doesn’t get the chance to interrogate her at length because the growling thing has found them. It turns out to actually just be a dude in standard barbarian getup, with a shield and a spiky handaxe. Who is growling.

Vina urges Pike to attack the miniboss over there while he can still swing a surprise round. Pike protests that this isn’t real, but Vina says he has to kill the guy just like he did before. This might all be an illusion but Pike is still gonna feel it just the same if he gets an axe through his chest.

After stomping around a bit, Mr. Snarly finally catches sight of Pike, so any possibility of Pike getting a sneak attack is now gone. Instead he shoves Vina out of the line of fire—the line of axe, if you will—and picks up a nearby mace and shield that’s just laying around. The two have at it, swinging weapons around like two people not used to swinging weapons around.

[Image description: A set of stone stairs between an archway leading up to a balcony. A man in heavy furs and a helmet, carrying a shield, is advancing on Pike, who is crouched on the stairs holding him off with a spear. Behind Pike a woman in a white dress with long blonde hair is cowering.]

A Pike holding a pike.

Eventually Mr. Snarly chases Pike and Vina up onto a nearby balcony. Pike gets pushed off, leaving Vina in the clutches of Mr. Snarly. In desperation, Pike picks up a nearby dagger and throws it at Mr. Snarly, somehow scoring a perfect hit and impaling the guy in the lower back despite all the thick fur in the way. That’s quite implausible impressive, though it doesn’t kill Mr. Snarly. It does attract his attention, though, as a dagger in your back is prone to do, and he proceeds to jump off the balcony to get at Pike—and lands right on top of a big vicious barbed thing that Pike holds up just in time. And that’s the end of Mr. Snarly. 500 XP for Pike!

The scene then dissolves and suddenly they’re back in the cell—both Pike and Vina, though now she has short hair and a shimmery silver dress. She promptly throws herself onto Pike, but then draws back as she realizes they’re being watched by the Talosians, who turn and exit back into the elevator without a word. Creeps.

Back in the present, the hearing room screen suddenly goes blank all by itself, to the surprise of Kirk and Mendez. Spock says this is because the Talosians know that Pike is getting worn out, and sure enough, the guy is asleep with his head slumped forward, thus far the only movement the actor has gotten to perform. The Talosians, Spock says, have a vested interest in Pike getting back alive. He suggests they take a break so everyone can catch a nap. Mendez and Spock have yet another brief bout of verbal arm-wrestling, which predictably goes nowhere. So they take a recess and come back after the break.

As everyone heads back into the room, Kirk’s voiceover informs us that they’re now only an hour out from Talos 4. Luckily for them Captain Pike’s gripping adventures fit remarkably well into a television episode format, so they should have plenty of time to finish watching before they get there.

On the screen, Pike is questioning Vina, asking what her whole deal is. She says she’s there to please him (gross), and when asked if she’s real she says she’s “real as you wish.” Pike calls that one out as the vague non-answer that it is, but Vina’s not any more forthcoming. He guesses that she’s there to get a reaction out of him for the sake of whatever this whole experiment is. While Pike muses out-loud on this, Vina tells him that he can live out any dream or fantasy he wants, and that she can be any woman he’s ever wanted. Vina. Vina, you’re creeping me out here. Please stop.

Mercifully for all of us, Pike is currently less interested in living out sex fantasies and more interested in not being caged up and experimented on by a bunch of psychic jerks, so he tells Vina that the best way for her to please him is to give him some information about how he can fight back against the Talosians. She won’t, though, only saying that he’s a fool, so Pike goes “well you’re not real anyway, nyah” and stalks off. But only about two feet away, there’s not much room to stalk in there.

Up on the planet surface, the Enterprise crew have brought up a seriously big laser and aimed it at the door. They start the countdown and then all run off and hide behind some rocks to watch the show. It’s an impressive show, including a lot of eye-watering flashing lights, but no matter how high they crank up the power, the door won’t budge. Eventually they have to shut it off, leaving them with no sign that anything happened at all, despite all reasonable expectations. But as Boyce points out, they can’t actually be sure of that—the Talosians’ psychic powers are so OP, they could have actually blasted that whole hill to kingdom come and they just can’t tell. Well, that was a productive use of time.

Back in the cell, Vina, evidently tired of being ignored, finally says that maybe she could answer some questions for Pike. But only if he’ll pick a fantasy for them to live out together. Pike is only willing to go as far as “perhaps” but that’s good enough for her. So he asks just how much the Talosians can control people. Vina says they can’t actually force him to do anything, only trick him using the illusions, and punish him if he doesn’t cooperate. They’re not completely all-powerful, then—good to know. As any good gamer knows, if it’s got a weakness, you can find a way to kill it.

When asked, Vina gives some backstory on the Talosians. Evidently they used to live up on the surface many millennia ago, but there was a great war that wrecked the planet so badly it’s only just starting to become able to support life again. The Talosians that managed to escape underground found that living in caves forever is really boring, so they worked on developing their psychic powers to compensate. As Vina explains, though, this was their downfall (well, their second downfall). Once their powers got so great that they could start living out any fantasy they wanted, they stopped doing anything else. Stopped building, expanding, creating, or maintaining their own society. Just sat around all day, dreaming up fake lives. Kind of like having the internet, but even worse.

Having specimens like Pike around is really great for the Talosians, Vina explains, because when they create illusions for him to live out they get to live vicariously through him, feeling his emotions and seeing new experiences. That’s why they’ve got a whole zoo down here, brought back from all over the galaxy. She doesn’t explain how they were brought back. The Talosians seem either unable or unwilling to leave the planet, so did they just have to lure all of their specimens to them? That would indicate that all of those specimens are actually from species advanced enough to have space travel, yet the presence of any other sapient species in the zoo is never mentioned. This would seem to lead to one of two conclusions: either there are other sapient species in the zoo and Pike and Vina just don’t care enough to give them any thought, or the Talosians got really lucky and managed to lure Space Noah’s Ark over to them.

If the Talosians have been keeping all these specimens around for years, Pike works out, they must have been doing what zoos usually do with their animals—breeding them. That indicates they intend to breed them some humans, too. They’ve now got a male specimen, so where are they going to find the female one? Vina protests that Pike made a deal with her about this question-asking business, but Pike says he doesn’t have to hold up a deal with a person who doesn’t exist anyway. Vina tells him that actually she is real, as real and human as him. They’re like Adam and Eve, she says. Oh boy.

Before she can elaborate on that, though, Vina starts writhing around and screaming in pain, begging not to be punished. Then she vanishes, leaving nothing but an empty dress behind. Pike turns to see the Magistrate, who’s been watching them for a while now, and who promptly skedaddles back into the elevator. But like, in a smug way.

Back in the hearing room, Mendez asks Pike if this means he was captured as breeding stock, just in case anyone in the audience doesn’t know who Adam and Eve are. Kirk questions why, was it just to maintain their zoo? Spock says there was much more going on. Then we go back to the footage. Thanks guys, really needed that little break there, very vital for the ongoing plot.

Pike has gone back to leaning on the walls in the hopes of finding a weak spot, when he sees that a glass of blue liquid has come through a panel. He tries to break through the panel, but he’s far too late and it’s now shut securely again. Nothing left to do but check out that glass. The Magistrate, who’s come back again, tells Pike that the liquid is a nourishing protein complex, good for when you’re working out a lot. And they actually say this with their mouth, the first time any of the Talosians have deigned to communicate verbally.

The Magistrate says that if Pike doesn’t find the protein complex appetizing, it can appear to be any kind of food he wants. What if, Pike asks, what he wants is to go on a hunger strike instead? The Magistrate replies that if Pike doesn’t cooperate he can be punished. Seconds later, Pike is writhing about in a landscape of flame and boiling mud, screaming dramatically. Then, just as quickly, he’s back in the cell. The Magistrate says they drew this experience from a fable Pike heard in childhood. I presume they’re talking about Hell, but really it could be a lot of things. Muspelheim, for example.

So if Pike doesn’t do what he’s told he’ll be put in time-out in Hell, which is pretty bad. But he wonders, why not just make him feel irresistibly hungry? The Magistrate doesn’t answer, but Pike works it out himself: that’s not within their power. They can construct imaginary environments that provide certain kinds of stimulus, but it seems that directly forcing people to feel specific sensations is a no-go. But the Magistrate warns that if Pike doesn’t drink his supper they can draw even worse punishments from his mind, so reluctantly he downs the contents of the glass. Then he gets up and abruptly makes a charge for the front of the cell, causing the Magistrate to briefly step back in alarm.

What follows is two completely separate conversations happening at once. Pike is focused on the Magistrate’s reaction. In that moment, he says, he was only thinking about how much he wanted to hurt the Magistrate, which makes him wonder if the Talosians can’t read through ‘primitive thoughts.’ Meanwhile the Magistrate, stubbornly ignoring everything Pike is saying, tells him that a human ship really did crash on the planet, but in reality there was only one survivor, badly injured. They fixed her up, found her ‘interesting,’ and decided they would need to attract a mate.

Pike finally caves to the subject and notes that the Talosians seem to be trying to make Pike feel protective and caring towards Vina. The Magistrate says this is necessary for propagation of the species. So apparently, despite how advanced the Talosians would like us to think they are, the only way they can get a baby out of a couple of humans is to get them to physically have sex with each other. I mean, we don’t even have to do that anymore. On that note, the Talosians got really lucky that both of their ‘specimens’ turned out to be cis and straight, and evidently still in full possession of all baby-making capabilities. Imagine how gloriously Pike could derail this whole stupid thing just by saying, “Sorry guys, got something to tell you...” My enjoyment of this episode would skyrocket.

The Magistrate says they only want Pike to fall in love with Vina because they want their specimens to be happy. Pike immediately dismisses that as a lie, which seems fair, since so far the Talosians’ attempts to make Pike ‘happy’ have involved sticking him in a ten by ten room with a single hard bench, constantly threatening to punish him horribly if he steps out of line, occasionally providing him with a single mouthful of liquid for sustenance, and standing right outside loudly insulting him for kicks. You guys would never get AZA accredited at this rate.

So Pike naturally enough assumes they have ulterior motives. He thinks that maybe they’re trying to get him to genuinely bond with Vina so they can establish a family group, maybe leading up to a whole community. Hopefully they’re planning to get some more specimens in the mix there or that human community is gonna face some serious problems. On his way out, the Magistrate says that Vina has been properly ‘conditioned,’ which enrages Pike, who says that if they’re going to punish anyone they should punish him because he’s the one not cooperating. The Magistrate smugly notes that Pike is feeling protectiveness and, now, sympathy, which is just what they want. Then they swan off again.

I don’t know if I would consider getting a human to feel sympathy and protectiveness to be much of an accomplishment though, to be honest. I mean, humans can feel sympathy and protectiveness towards animals, plants, inanimate objects, fictional characters, Animal Crossing villagers...it doesn’t take a masterwork of manipulation, is what I’m saying.

Pike stands there glaring after the Magistrate, but a moment later the cell fades out and he suddenly finds himself in a soundstage with some trees on it—sorry, I meant, some beautiful and verdant parkland, of course. Nearby is Vina with a blanket and picnic basket, and also, a couple horses. Pike recognizes the horses as his, the ones he was telling Boyce about back in Part I, and takes a minute to happily pet one and feed him some sugar cubes. Pike’s held out in the face of being offered any kind of wild fantasy he wishes, refusing to buy into any illusion he’s been given, but getting to see his beloved pets, now, that’ll make him immediately give in a little. Which I consider to be easily the most realistic moment in this entire story. If you wanted me to buy into an illusory world, putting my cat in it would probably be your best bet.

This all seems to be a scene from home for Pike, home in the most ideal possible sense, and Vina tells him he can stay there. Pike protests that neither of them are really there, that they’re being held in a cage, a menagerie—two for one title drop there, woo! But Vina reacts very badly to any mention that this is all an illusion. Pike keeps trying to get information out of her while she sits there begging for him to just go along with it.

Eventually Vina says that it’s true the Talosians can’t read through primitive emotions like hate. I’m not sure why hate is a more primitive emotion than anything else. I could understand how any strong enough emotion could overwhelm sensitive telepathy, but no, it’s just hate, I guess. Personally I think hate is kind of an advanced emotion. I mean, do you think animals feel hate? I don’t think so. I think it’s something we invented.

Problem is, Vina says, it’s impossible to keep that hate going for long enough to really do anything. “I’ve tried,” she says. “They keep at you and at you, year after year, tricking and punishing. And they’ve won. They own me.”

Keep in mind that if Vina was really a survivor of that crash, that means she’s been here for eighteen years. Eighteen years alone with no contact except for figments of her imagination and some aliens that view her as nothing more than a primitive animal. Eighteen years of being held captive by beings that can make someone live through the most nightmarish scenarios they could possibly imagine as punishment for any transgression. Eighteen years of constant psychological manipulation and torture. Pike’s frustration with her unwillingness to help is understandable but it’s hardly any wonder that Vina just wants him to cooperate so that the hell she lives in, that she’s given up any chance of ever getting out of, could now at least become a little more bearable. We only get a glimpse of what that hell must have been like for her, but that glimpse is absolutely horrific.

Pike comforts her, because you’d have to be pretty damn hard-hearted to not react to that little speech, but Vina says he doesn’t fully realize what’s going on. She says that the Talosians picked Pike specifically because they read her mind to know what her idea of the perfect man would be. In other words, he was hand-picked to be someone she couldn’t help but fall in love with. Really, they searched her mind for the ideal man and came up with this dude? Vina. Vina, honey, I don’t mean to judge, but you could do so much better.

While the Talosians watch from their cave monitor, because they’re skeevy bastards, Pike says that he’s been attracted to Vina as well from the moment he first saw her in the camp. When you thought she was eighteen, ya creep. He says she was like “a wild little animal.” Pike...Pike, I don’t know where you learned to compliment women but you clearly need to go back and take the course again.

Vina says that she thinks she knows now why Pike hasn’t been brought in by any of the illusions; they’re all things that he’s experienced and is familiar with. A person’s wildest dreams, she says, are about things that they can’t have. Pike being a starship captain means he always has to be formal and honorable, so he must be yearning to cut loose. Wow, thanks for giving the Talosians free tips on how to psychologically manipulate humans, Vina.

Sure enough, the Talosians promptly change the idyllic scene, and Pike finds himself dressed in ornate clothing and sitting by a poolside while Vina—now appearing as an Orion woman with green skin and dark hair—dances with the accompaniment of a few guys playing music that I can only describe as ‘stereotypically exotic’. And that really is the same actress, Susan Oliver, who had a long career as an actor, director, and aviator, but mostly now gets remembered for a few minutes of dancing around with green paint on.

(A fun fact about this scene is that they had to experiment a lot to get the green makeup right, but when the film first came back from editing, the green was barely visible. So they tried another makeup, but that didn’t show up any better. This went on for a while before they found out that the guy in the film lab had been assuming that the green color was a mistake that they would want corrected, and had been hard at work undoing the makeup artist’s hard work. That’s the only fun thing I can come up with about this scene, though.)

Apparently Pike’s wildest fantasies also include a bowl of fruit and a couple of incredibly sleazy guys sitting next to him just to round things out. Luckily for him, all this is being observed not just by a bunch of smug jerk aliens, but also by the court martial attendees watching it on the screen in the present, while he sits there unable to leave or say anything or even turn around. And yes, the scene cuts back to the present, just in case anyone might have forgotten about that. Kirk even asks Pike to confirm that that is Vina as the Orion slave girl, for no reason I can think of except to just embarrass him. Mendez muses that “[Orion women] are like animals—vicious, seductive. They say no human male can resist them.”

Excuse me, I need to just step away from my computer for a moment.

[distant sounds of a head banging against a wall]

Okay, I’m back. Where were we? Oh, right. This.

The sexy dancing goes on for longer than is frankly necessary—although really, any amount of time at all would be longer than is necessary—while Pike sits there vibrating in place before he can’t stand it anymore and flees through a nearby door. Beyond is a series of, guess what, more caves. As Pike looks around for an exit he finds that the way back is now gone, nothing more than a solid stone wall. And then Vina, still in green, appears behind him, holding a torch.

What happens next is left to the imagination—probably for the best there—as we then finally return to the Enterprise, where a landing party is assembling. Number One and Spock give the rest a grim briefing: they’re hoping to beam down to the inside of the Talosians’ base, but there’s always the possibility that the Talosians could manipulate what the transporter officer sees and cause people to be beamed inside solid rock. Gee, the transporter sure is fun. Number One says that, given that lovely possibility, anyone is free to back out now without judgment, but no one does. No one ever does when someone gives that ultimatum, come to think of it.

So they all get on the transporter and prepare to head off, but when the switch is hit, only two of the six people actually go anywhere: Number One and a red-haired female crewman who’s been around but hasn’t been named yet. Or, as Spock hilariously declares rather loudly, “THE WOMEN!”

The transporter operators fumble desperately with the controls, but to no avail: the women are, indeed, gone. Specifically, they’ve gone to Pike’s cell. The inside of his cell, unfortunately. Pike is evidently still inside the illusion doing I-don’t-want-to-know-what with Vina because he’s just standing there staring into space while Vina has her hands on his shoulders. Upon seeing the new arrivals she screams, “No! Let me finish!” and storms away.

While Vina sulks and the other two women realize that no one else got transported with them, Pike re-enters reality, and promptly tears open the redhead’s landing jacket. No worries, though: what he’s after is the phaser she’s carrying. He takes Number One’s, too, but to his frustration neither phaser seems to be working. Neither is Number One’s communicator.

So Pike adopts a new strategy. He stands over by the panel where the food-drink came out, drops the phasers in front of it, and begins loudly talking about how he’s imagining beating up the Talosians, filling his mind with that most primitive of emotions, hate. Meanwhile, Vina moves on to picking on the other women, sneering about how the redhead is “a fine choice for intelligent offspring” and that “they’d have more luck crossing him with a computer” than Number One, who somehow has already figured out that the Talosians are trying to breed humans from Pike. Number One fires back that Vina was an adult crewman on the crashed ship eighteen years ago, meaning she should not be looking quite so young and sprightly anymore. Yeah, you really get a sense that Number One is logical, emotionless and detached, by how her response to one half-baked insult is to immediately go, “Oh yeah, well you’re OLD.”

The whole argument is derailed when the Magistrate comes back to tell Pike that since he’s been resisting Vina, they’ve brought him two more women to choose from. Great. Lovely. Look, I, uh...I don’t really want to examine the practicality of breeding humans too much, y’know, but...I don’t understand why the Talosians are so focused on Pike and only Pike here. When they only had one human on hand, and wanted a lot more humans, trying to get more humans out of that first human makes...sense, I guess. But now there’s a whole ship up there of some four hundred humans (and one half-human), and they’re completely ignoring all of them except Pike and two women that they only brought down to entice Pike some more. Sure, they’ve decided Pike is the ‘prime specimen’ or whatever, but he’s only one guy. If you want to build a whole community, you’re going to need a lot more genetic diversity—not to mention the additional skillsets offered by the rest of the Enterprise crew, that the Talosians themselves clearly don’t have, and the fact that having so many more extra specimens means your whole plan isn’t ruined if one of them dies or is infertile or refuses to get with the program. This plot is obviously incredibly ethically wrong, but it’s also just incredibly stupid on a practical level.

The Magistrate proceeds to inform Pike that both women have qualities in their favor: Number One is really smart, and the redhead is young and strong. Also apparently she’s been crushing on Pike for some time but considered him unreachable and is now realizing that that’s changed. Sure, because any woman’s first thought upon suddenly being imprisoned to use as breeding stock would be “oh cool, I get to screw the captain now.” That’s ever so realistic.

Pike is still yelling at the Magistrate about all his hateful thoughts, but the Magistrate puts a stop to it by giving him some kind of mental punishment, presumably another trip to hell. They smugly tell the assembled captives that wrong thinking will be punished and right thinking will be rewarded. Then they flounce away.

Sometime later, everyone’s sitting around looking glum—or taking a nap, in Vina’s case—when Pike sees the panel in the wall start to slide open. The Magistrate is making a grab for the phasers Pike dropped there earlier. But this time Pike is ready. He pounces on the guy, hauling them out into the cell, pinning them to the floor, and grabbing them by the throat. The Magistrate responds by making themself appear to be some kind of big hairy thing with tusks, but Pike is undeterred and hangs on, threatening the Magistrate into dropping the illusion. So then the Magistrate says that if Pike doesn’t release them they’ll destroy the Enterprise. Vina says they can do it, by tricking the crew into working the wrong controls, but Pike thinks they won’t.

He tries the phasers again, but they still don’t seem to be working. So he turns the phaser on the Magistrate. He’s guessing that the phaser did work and the Magistrate just illusion’d over it, but they’re probably not going to be able to do the same thing if Pike shoots them in the head. The Magistrate gives in and, sure enough, a big hole suddenly appears in the front wall of the cell. Well, fancy that.

Everyone makes their way out of the hole, Pike hauling along the Magistrate with a phaser still pointed at their head. Back in the present, the screen goes off on its own. Spock, for the first time during all this, seems unsure and worried, especially when Mendez comments that “it seems the Talosians have deserted you.” He asks them to just wait a moment, but the screen still remains white. I feel for him. It sucks when you’re trying to give a presentation but the projector’s just not cooperating.

Mendez asks Pike for his verdict, but Spock begs his former captain to signal for a wait instead, telling him it’s a chance for his life on the line. Kirk questions what Spock means, exactly, by all this ‘chance for life’ business, since all that we’ve seen indicates that ‘life’ with the Talosians means being kept caged and treated like a zoo animal performing for amusement. You know, Kirk, that’s a mighty good point. We’ll get back to that later.

Spock insists there’s more to it and tells him to watch, but there’s nothing to watch. It sure is a pity Spock has completely lost his ability to explain anything himself and can only rely on the screen to do it for him. Tragic.

With no more footage forthcoming, Mendez pushes again for a verdict, and Pike votes with a single long beep: guilty. Mendez himself votes guilty as well. Attention turns to Kirk, although with two guilty votes it doesn’t much matter what he says now. Still, there’s quite the dramatic chord when he votes guilty as well. Although it’d be pretty hard to not vote that Spock was guilty right now. I mean, he put in a guilty plea. They know he did indeed take the ship to Talos 4 because they’re on the ship and it’s going there right now. Spock may (or may not, it’s debatable) have good reasons for doing what he’s doing, but it’d be kind of ludicrous to call him innocent of the charges.

After the break, the bridge calls in to say that they’re entering orbit around Talos 4. Spock says that the Talosians are controlling the ship like they did thirteen years ago. Uh. The Talosians didn’t control the ship thirteen years ago, though, did they? They tricked the people who did control the ship into going there, but there was never an indication that they could actually control the ship directly. You might say they were just controlling it via illusions again, except they can’t do that because no one is actually flying the ship right now. It’s still computer controlled. So what’s going on here, Spock?

Spock’s not forthcoming about this but he says they’ll see the answer as to why right now. And sure enough, the screen comes back on. Man, all that drama about whether the record would keep playing, and voting Spock guilty or not, that sure led up to something, didn’t it. Here they are, all still in the room. Watching the screen. Why did it go off in the first place? Nobody knows.

On the screen, Pike and co take the elevator back up to the surface, where it turns out that the giant laser cannon actually did blow the door clean off, and took out a bunch of the surrounding rock, too—the Talosians just put an illusion over it.

Pike orders Number One to contact the ship, but it seems she can’t. The Magistrate gloats that their escape attempt was futile and actually they wanted the prisoners to get up to the surface. Oh, fuck off. If they wanted the humans on the surface, they could have taken them to the surface at any time. There was no need for an elaborate charade of pretending to be taken prisoner. This punk just got their ass handed to them and is too terminally smug to admit it. “Yeah, this was our plan! We wanted you to do this all along!” Bullshit.

Anyway, the Magistrate says it’s time for the reclaiming of the planet surface to begin, once Pike chooses a lady. Pike says that he’ll stay with Vina if the Talosians at least send Number One and the redhead back. Number One then drops this stunning line.

[Image Description: Number One, a white woman with long dark hair wearing a blue landing party jacket over a gold uniform shirt, saying, “It’s wrong to create a race of humans to live as slaves.”]

REALLY, IS IT? I NEVER WOULD HAVE GUESSED. Man, Star Trek really coming in with the hard-hitting moral lessons here. So cerebral! I’m in awe.

To prove her point, Number One has set her phaser to start overloading, which will kill all of them. The Magistrate is, for once, quite thrown by this sudden determination to die rather than live in captivity. Pike tells Vina and the Magistrate that they still have time to get back underground before the phaser goes off, but Vina says that if they all really find it this important, she’s staying with them. After all if the Talosians have any human beings left they’ll probably just keep trying this whole thing all over again. And poor Vina may well be thinking now that going out in a phaser overload is preferable to more time as a captive under such awful circumstances.

Before anyone can get vaporized, though, a couple more Talosians come up in the elevator. Apparently they’ve got some information from the Enterprise records that they’re here to deliver to the Magistrate telepathically, though not before getting in yet another dig about how crude the humans are. The Magistrate is stunned at this new information: that humans have such a hatred for captivity that they’ll choose death instead, no matter how pleasant the captivity is. Yeah, we really hate captivity. Not so much, of course, that we won’t subject lots of other humans to it if it’s convenient for us, but, y’know.

At any rate, from this information (wherever they got it from—was there just a subheading in the Enterprise archives about How Much We Hate Captivity, Boy We Really Do?), the Talosians figure that using humans for their slave race is never going to work because they’re just too violent and rebellious. Since the humans are no use, the Talosians are going to let them go. Oh. Well okay then.

Pike is annoyed that they’re not even getting a “sorry we kidnapped and tried to enslave you” or anything, but one of the Talosians points out that without a slave race, the Talosians are condemned to die, so Pike should be happy with that. Oh sure, blame it on the humans. You were the ones who got yourselves into the situation where you needed a slave race to survive. You have only yourselves to blame.

But apparently humans were the Talosians’ best shot, as they were unable to find any other species adaptable enough for the purpose. Pike wonders if there might be, y’know, some middle ground between survival by slave race and extinction—trading, perhaps—but the Magistrate says that humans would eventually pick up the Talosians’ illusion powers and destroy themselves too. That’s a remarkably confident prediction. How do they know humans are even capable of developing that power, or that they would react in the same way to having it?

Oh, never mind. Pike’s done with these idiots and ready to get back to the ship. All eyes then turn to Vina—who says she can’t go.

Up in the transporter room, they’ve suddenly got power again, and the helm is responding once more. Oh, I guess the Talosians did have control over the ship? Since...when? It seems to be enough for them to transport Number One and the redhead back up, at any rate. But not Pike just yet. He’s still down there talking to Vina.

As dramatic music plays, the illusion fades away from Vina, revealing her TRUE FORM: an old woman with a couple scars and a hunch. Hideous.

[Image Description: Vina, an old white woman with stiff pale hair, a scar running across her face and another under the corner of her mouth. She is wearing a shimmery white-gray garment and her right shoulder is hunched up close to her ear.]

Vina says the Talosians found her in the wreckage of the crash, horribly injured, and were able to save her, but because they had never seen a human before they had “no guide to putting [her] back together.” So they were able to figure out human anatomy well enough to restore a dying crash victim to full health, while somehow also not being able to figure it out well enough to make the human look right—even though the Talosians are pretty human-looking themselves and, one would think, would have a decent idea of where all the arms and legs and things go at least. Of course, given that all we can see is Vina’s face and some of the shape of her upper body, it’s rather hard to tell what the Talosians even did that was supposedly so bad. Maybe we’re supposed to imagine the rest of her looks like a Necromorph, but as it is, you’ll forgive me for not dropping my jaw in horror at an old woman with a hump.

Pike, however, seems to be considerably more squeamish, and stands there gaping like an idiot. The Magistrate tells him that they had to show him that Vina did in fact honestly want to stay behind, but they’ll give her back her “illusion of beauty” and “more.” I mean they psychologically tortured her for eighteen years, but we can probably trust them with her welfare.  

So Pike returns to the ship, and when asked if Vina isn’t coming with, he says, “No, and I agreed with her reasons.” Oh, you agreed, did you? Once you saw her “true form” wasn’t attractive to you, you realized it was better for her to stay with the aliens that tortured and enslaved her. God forbid she should walk among humans again. She might drive people mad!

The Enterprise heads out, and in the present, the screen goes white again—presumably that’s really the end this time. Kirk gets up, shares a long look with Spock, then turns to say something to Mendez—but Mendez promptly disappears. An image of the Magistrate then appears on the screen, speaking telepathically.

The Magistrate says that Mendez never left the base—he’s been an illusion ever since the shuttlecraft. Having heard from Spock what strength of will Kirk had, they were afraid that Kirk would regain control of the ship, so they made this illusory court martial to distract him. Well if that was the case, why the frell did Mendez keep trying to end the court martial? You’d think they would want him to be extending it as much as possible instead of constantly saying he wanted it stopped.

Anyway, the Magistrate says Pike is welcome to come stay with them for the rest of his life, where he can live in a virtual world instead of being stuck paralyzed forever. Kirk wants to know why the hell Spock didn’t just explain all this to him, because after all Kirk is always down for breaking Starfleet regulations if the Right Thing To Do is on the line. But Spock says that he wouldn’t have Kirk facing the death penalty too. Uh, he kind of is, though? Because it’s his ship so he’s responsible for everything that happens on it? Did we not go over this? I think we went over this.

At that moment, though, a message comes in from the real Mendez, saying that they received the transmissions from Talos 4 also, and in light of how important Pike has been to the service, they’re going to drop the death penalty thing this one time. And Spock is off the hook. Oh, well, that’s super nice of them. I guess the only thing left to do is ask Pike himself if he wants to go.

Pike says yes, so Spock takes him off to the transporter room. Kirk, left alone in the room, is shown an image of Pike—young, healthy Pike—returning down the elevator hand in hand with Vina. “Captain Pike has an illusion, and you have reality,” the Magistrate says. “May you find your way as pleasant.” And there we end.

There is so much going on here I don’t even know where to start. The ending that Vina gets is, quite honestly, an outrage. It’s presented as an utterly obvious fact that her appearance means that staying behind on Talos 4 is best for her. Did anyone consider that maybe if they brought her back she could be treated by human doctors, who, y’know, generally have seen a human or two in their time and might be able to help her a wee bit more than the clueless aliens? Even if not, even if they could do nothing for her, why the hell shouldn’t she come back? It can’t be that she’s somehow unable to leave, such as from some kind of medical issue that only the Talosians can treat, because she outright says “everything works.” It’s an ending that pretty bluntly says that for a woman, being disfigured is such a horrible fate that it’s better for her to remain a captive of the aliens that imprisoned, tortured, and attempted to breed her to make a race of slaves, than for her to live with other humans. Some enlightened future this is!

It’s a bad enough for a character of any gender, but it’s hard not to see it as being directly related to her being a woman, because we have a male example to directly compare it to: Pike. Pike’s appearance after his accident helps demonstrate his condition but it’s otherwise pretty much incidental. No one ever comments on it. All the focus is on his quality of life--which it should be in that situation, but no one ever talks about Vina’s quality of life. So for Pike to consider going to live in a virtual world with the jerkass aliens he has to be completely paralyzed and barely able to communicate with anyone, but for Vina, well, she doesn’t look nice anymore, so that’s basically just as bad, right?

Not that the whole question of going to live with the jerkass aliens is itself not weird as hell. The idea of choosing the virtual world isn’t so much the problem. I mean, I spend way too much time playing video games to call anyone else out on their decisions in that regard. If this was some neutral situation--a planet or machine that naturally generates these illusions, or that the Enterprise had stumbled upon aliens with this power accidentally, maybe, for Pike or even Vina to choose to live there because they felt their quality of life in the real world was no longer good enough, that would be an understandable decision. But we’re not talking about that. We’re talking about the aliens that kidnapped five people, put them in cages and treated them like zoo animals, tortured them for not obeying, and intended to breed a race of slaves from them. Did everyone just forget that?! Vina outright described being tortured for eighteen years by the Talosians. Why would anyone remotely be okay with the idea of continuing to live with them? Why would you trust that they genuinely had good intentions for Pike and Vina now or that they’ve become definitely reformed in the past thirteen years? Why are we expected to treat this as an unambiguously happy ending?

I acknowledge that there were limitations when it came to writing The Menagerie--they had to work with an existing story which wasn’t written with the later framework in mind. But they didn’t have to frame that story in the way that they did, which, I’ll be honest with you, I did not find that great. It starts out interesting enough, with this whole question of what could possibly be going on with Spock, and what’s so terrible about Talos 4, but once they get to the actual court martial it just peters out. They keep trying to maintain tension in both storylines, but all the drama in the present one falls flat because it’s meaningless. Periodically the screen will stop or Mendez will go “I’ve had enough of this!”--and then nothing happens and everything carries on as it was. Then at the end it turns out Mendez wasn’t real and, despite Talos 4 apparently being SO DANGEROUS that it warranted the only death penalty in the Federation, Starfleet is like “oh okay yeah no it’s fine” and that’s the end of that.

Why not just...I don’t know...present the story as a flashback? Why go to all the trouble of setting up circumstances of letting them view the footage on a screen in a way that’s so weird the characters straight up have to say “hang on this doesn’t make sense” just to get the audience to accept it? Set up a situation where the present day Enterprise crew is dealing with something a little like the Talosians and have Spock go “oh we encountered something like this once” and Kirk go “oh tell me about it” and then at the end Kirk somehow gets an idea of how to deal with the current situation because of that story. Or maybe someone makes contact with Talos 4, maybe they’ve changed their minds and want to ask for help after all, maybe Vina’s changed her mind and wants to go home, but Spock has to relate the story because no one else knows what’s going on. Hell, maybe Spock and Kirk just meet Pike in a bar and he’s like “hey Spock remember those dumb aliens we met that one time!” There’s lots of potential frameworks that would be less overly complicated, and less prone to setting themselves up to an unsatisfactory conclusion, than the one we got.

The Cage was infamously rejected because the executives thought it was “too cerebral.” What, exactly, they thought was cerebral about it is a mystery to me. Was it Pike fighting a snarly guy in a fur hat for five minutes? Was it the bit where a woman in green body paint dances sensually while a lot of men ogle at her? Was it the giant laser? There’s so many amazingly cerebral things in this story, it could have been any of them. But whatever their reasons, I, for one, can only say I am glad that they did reject The Cage and that we got the show that we did instead.

TREK TROPE TALLY: None once again this episode--unsurprisingly since we only saw two main cast members and they just sat in a room the whole time. Next time we’ll be enjoying  intrigue and Shakespeare references galore with The Conscience of the King.

[seungcheolrk]

camera, lights, vlive.

february 23rd, 2019: convex’s first vlive. featuring the throwback harmonica. 

truthfully, and unsurprisingly, the whole concept of their first vlive terrifies him. being so structured, so formal, seungcheol feels like there’s an added pressure on his shoulders to be interesting and engaging and given that this will be the first time he’s referred to as rap unit leader in public, too, he can’t help but feel nervous. he can’t imagine anyone wouldn’t feel nervous in his shoes— in convex’s shoes, since this is their first public appearance since rome’s departure, too. it’s a lot of firsts and a lot of expectations and a lot of what ifs but it’s here and he’s waiting, bright but scared smile on his face in anticipation as the mc gets to his introduction. 

( he takes not tripping as he walks out and bows in greeting as a victory. small, but a victory nonetheless. ) 

his aforementioned gummy smile is on show as he wanders in following his introduction ( and first recognition as rap unit leader ) from the mc, bowing deeply as he takes his name badge and wiggles a little to the music. he doesn’t overdo it, doesn’t want to look silly or embarrass himself so early on in the live show, and thankfully there’s a wide berth between stiff and robotic and dear god, how do we undebut choi seungcheol? so he thinks he’s got things reasonably in the bag so far. the other members cheer and the mc is smiling and he didn’t hold his name tag upside down ( nor put it on the wrong way up ) so really, everything is going as well as possible. 

unfortunately, with that, he wholly expects things to go downhill, but he tries to stay positive. 

it’s odd only having three members from the rap unit to introduce, and he thinks rome’s absence still weighs on them quite a lot and will do for a while. even in such a big group, one member leaves such a large gap that seungcheol feels as if it’s impossible not to notice it or focus on it. he dreads to think what the comments will be like, dreads to think what people have to say about him being a leader now when they have barely heard him say three sentences since he debuted, but he tries not to think about it. they’re careful not to mention the missing thirteenth member, or anything about the ‘scandal’ and he trusts that when they start reacting to comments in a bit they won’t read any that reference it. after all, this is their first vlive. this is supposed to be a joyous occasion; a new beginning and a promise of many more live shows to come. why would anyone want to bring the mood down by reminding them of everything they’re trying to ignore? why would they want to bring up an artist they ( reportedly ) kicked from the label? 

he distracts himself laughing at some joke he doesn’t really hear from the mc, nods as they introduce the next segment.

his passion for this broadcast. since it would be convex’s first ever, he’d thought of writing something about them doing well and taking care of one another, thought about setting a goal of so many hearts and promises to return the love to fans with their future activities and releases, but in the end he settles on the former. at a time like this, seungcheol thinks sharing love between the members and fans is the best thing he can do. let’s love! he writes, let’s show our charm today and return all the hearts fans give!! convex fighting!! the mc doesn’t read every comment, but it’s there on screen for fans and the members to read regardless. 

when the time comes for syllable poems, he does his best to be quiet and unnoticeable. words have never been his speciality and he’d only make a fool of himself stumbling over not only his confident speech but a poorly thrown together poem, too. thankfully with so many members, it makes it easy for him to fade into the background when he wants or needs to, yet still come back into the foreground with everyone else when they spend a little time hearing comments left by viewers. it’s kind of surreal to him that so many are watching live, spending their time looking at them through a computer or phone screen and sending them love and queries to answer. he knew these things would happen, he’s a fan of plenty of groups himself, but when it’s you, your group, it’s something else entirely. 

as they tease their comeback, he’s reminded of the strict rules they’re on not to spoil anything. teasing is one thing, but they aren’t to reveal concepts, titles, snippets— anything about the song itself. he daren’t think of what the consequences would be but even without them, he doesn’t think there’s any benefit to telling the world anything too revealing. the picture of them all grinning, talking over one another as they sneakily reveal something is in the works is bound to get fans more excited than the title of the track or a single line of lyrics. it always worked that way on him, anyway. 

more comments are read ( and more ‘thank you’s and finger hearts are given from seungcheol to the camera directly ahead of him even if he doesn’t understand anything in all the foreign languages his members are speaking so fluently ) before they jump into the unit performances. 

performing for the first time without rome is weird. it feels unnatural almost. after so long of having him there, even though they’ve distributed the song between them so no actual gaps are left, it still feels like something is missing at times. he knows it’ll take longer than a few weeks, maybe even longer than a few months, to get used to being twelve and three, but that doesn’t stop him from thinking about it obsessively every time he’s reminded. regardless, they have to do it and seungcheol has missed covering songs dearly ( mr chu last month was the first time in a long time, after all ) so he gives it his all, grins brightly and bows as they’re praised for a successful performance.

next, after what feels like forever, comes seungcheol’s favourite portion of the vlive — and what takes up the majority of their time here today — the idol coaching missions. they’re only silly challenges and tasks, the things that are apparently essential for convex to ‘fly higher’ in the years to come, but seungcheol feels a unfamiliar sense of excitement to get stuck in. 

nicknames are strange things, though. seungcheol had always been known as sphere’s scaredy cat and whilst once upon a time, he loved having his own identity and was proud of his eventual acceptance of his fears, now he wants to be more than the way he’ll jump scared at loud noises and flinch at sudden movements of the people around him. he wants to be convex’s reliable rap leader, convex’s gummy smile, convex’s nerd, even. when he thinks about it, though, he struggles to pull anything from the reaches of his mind that’s unique to him. he’s never lived anywhere but seoul, let alone been born elsewhere. he doesn’t have any talents outside of music ( unless you count his extensive knowledge of star wars and resulting jar jar binks impression ) and doesn’t have any particular characteristics that make him distinct besides the presence of his gums in his smile. he wants to be more than a smile, though. he wants to be remembered for being something other than quiet and fearful. he throws around some ideas relating to music but they all feel generic. most of their group plays piano and a great deal play guitar, too, but the more he thinks about it, the clearer it becomes that — as useless as it may be to an idol, especially so early in their career — he plays the most instruments, has the background in the music store, has spent years learning and loving western classical music and grandiose movie scores— hell, his father was even a classical violinist. it’s perfect, even if he does feel a little nervous about how big it sounds. 

“hello, e-everyone! i’m c-c-convex’s rap unit l-leader and maestro! please take care of me.” a chorus of ‘ooh’s and ‘ahh’s rings through the room as seungcheol is asked to explain his name. “I l-love learning d-different instruments! I want to m-master every instrument.” slipping in the meaning of the word, he giggles quietly. he then momentarily wonders whether or not he should keep talking while he can, make himself stand out a little more to anyone who might be watching that’s brushed over him before so he adds, “I’ve a-also always had an i-interest in western c-classical music and m-movie scores. e-everything comes together to make m-me convex’s maestro!” he grins, clapping his hands together as he raises his voice a little enthusiastically with his final word — his nickname. the members and mc react positively and seungcheol’s grin stays for the rest of the segment and as they transition into the second challenge: personal talents. 

at first, this stumps him, too. he doesn’t think he really has any talents outside of music that will capture anyone’s interest, but there’s nothing to say it has to be separate. nothing says he can’t do a jar jar binks impression ( besides his dignity ), but why do something so strikingly different when he could play with the cards he’s already dealt them? why not show why he deserves the title of convex’s maestro? 

“me? I’m going to show you a little harmonica!” really, he should’ve learnt the first time. he should’ve known after still facing the embarrassment in flashbacks for months after that the harmonica was a demonic instrument sent to this earth just to humiliate him but he still digs it out of his drawers earlier in the month and practises, brings it to the vlive to show them how good he’s gotten at the solo from isn’t she lovely two years later. he focuses himself entirely on it, as if he’s back on his own in the practice room with no pressure to get it perfect ( because that’s always when things are flawless; when no one is watching ). 

the reactions challenge is one he worries about a lot when it’s first proposed to them in planning. he isn’t by any means a ‘reaction king’ unless it involves being spooked and these situations aren’t likely to bless ( or curse? ) him in that way. when it comes to his turn, he’s called upon, asked to pretend the camera has caught him yawning, so he covers his face to laugh and ‘get into character’ as the members count him down. he should feel nervous with so many eyes on him, especially with what he’s about to do, but with aegyo, he rarely feels the level of embarrassment he’s used to. with an unusual ( at least, for shy choi seungcheol ) confidence, he opens his mouth and makes the most exaggerated yawning sound he possibly can before widening his eyes comically at the camera and reaching just past his lips to pull out a finger heart. his shoulders hunch and his eyes wrinkle as he grins, shoots more hearts as he laughs at the reactions around him. for once, he’s proud of himself, proud of the impression he’s made. maybe aegyo is truly the best way for him to make an impression off the stage, though he’s not sure how he feels about that either just yet. as much as he doesn’t want to be convex’s scaredy cat forever, he also doesn’t want to still be known for aegyo at the age of thirty. 

finally, with a few runs of their greeting and hearty advice from their experienced idol coach and mc, it’s time to wrap up. even though a couple hours have passed, he feels like he’s blinked and it’s over. they’ve covered so much, moved through so many segments and challenges and he feels how much they’ve accomplished but it still feels like it’s gone too fast. suddenly, they’re moving onto goodbyes in foreign languages, endless ‘thank you’s and expressions of gratitude to their mc and for the success of their first ever vlive from not only seungcheol but every member, deep bows and all varieties of hearts ( he even sneaks in an apple heart when he’s sure the camera will be a wide shot of all of them ) and any moment now, the cameras will shut off and the comments will stop flooding in and they’ll be back to rehearsing for their first comeback. first. there’s a lot of firsts happening lately but today’s firsts have been like ripping off a plaster — it hurts for a little while doing this without rome, it’s terrifying to him to be on camera and under so much pressure for a little while, but he knows that with time, that will fade and he will heal. he looks forward to their second vlive ( and hopes desperately that it’s a lot more relaxed than this one; where’s their liev? now that would be fun... ).

[lesberrian]

The Bloodborn Alchemist

chapter 1

Q waits outside the door as Roy and King Bradly talk. There weren’t any chairs so they had to sit on the ground. Not even a day out of the hospital and they have to wait on the ground to see what’s going to happen to them. Q didn’t tell anybody about the stone or what they could do because of it out of fear. They knew several people in the world wanted it for themselves. 

Moving their long, black hair off the ground and over their shoulder, they brush it with their fingers as it sits in their lap. Q can’t remember why, but they can’t get themselves to cut their hair for some reason. They would even fight at getting the bangs cuts and did it themselves, causing them to be slightly messy most of the time. As they brush out their hair and braid it, Q tries to hear what the two men are talking about.

Right after they had tied their ribbon around the braid, Mustang and King Bradley stepped out. King Bradley offered his hand to help them up.

“Thank you.” They said, staring dead at him. Looking over to Mustang, they wait for an explanation. 

“Seeing as you’re still young and with no where to go, I figured it would be the best choice to have you stay with someone until you can get back on your own feet." He l

looks back at King Bradley, "And… The conclusion is that you are staying with me."

Taking a moment to process it, Q stares at Mustang. 'I lost everyone I know and even the village is dead. I suppose I should be glad I have a place to stay.'

"Well?" The king asks with a smile on his face. "I'm hoping this is ok considering there's no one else you can stay with."

"I suppose it it's ok with Mr. Mustang." Q was tired, they just wanted to sleep. They knew what happened for them to be alive right now and up until they've been in a hospital every second for the past week.

"Then it's decided. Mustang, you will be the legal guardian of Q from now on." King Bradley patted them on their shoulder. "Well, I have other business to attend to so good night you two. Stay safe on the way back to Eastern."

Q watches silently as king Bradley walks down the hallway. Looking up at Musang, they ask jokingly, "So… does that make you my dad or something?"

"... Are you saying that's what you want to call me?"

"Are you saying you want me to call you that?"

"Alright, let's just go catch a train back to Eastern." He starts walking away. Q follows him and debates talking to him about the philosophers stone.

"When do you plan on becoming a state alchemist? Not many can transmute without a circle, even I have to use one." 

Q hesitates. "Im… curious if I can research something if I become one." 

"With a state alchemist title you can research just about anything with ease." He looks at them and sighs. "Don't tell me you're after the stone just like those brothers are."

"No, I'm not after it to speak. I have nothing to replace and frankly, bringing someone back even if I could, is selfish, I've learned first hand. I just want to know what would happen if someone had one as a heart."

Q watched his reaction carefully. As they stepped out of the government building, Roy glanced at them. "Are you referring to a homunculus by chance? You are aware those are myths, correct?"

"Those are created. Im… well, what if it was a human that was given a stone as their heart? I heard from someone when I was younger it happened before." Q sneezes because of the cold.

"Bless you," He says. "The person who told you that was lying, Q. Even though you're still a child you can't be that naive. Not if you want to be a state alchemist."

Q sighs, they were hoping that he would at least catch on slightly. "When we get to Eastern I want to explain what I'm trying to say. I can't do it with so many people here."

Roy thinks closely about what they said. 'Are they trying to say that they are one? That's impossible. I must be thinking too much into this.'

As they sit in the train on the way to Eastern, Roy tells them about the people on his team. For the most part, Q was only partially listening and was almost asleep. 

He only noticed when their head hit the window and were completely asleep.

"Get some sleep, god knows how long it's been since you've done so properly."

When they arrived at central, Roy woke them up and they left for his house. When they arrived to his house, Q sighed.

"So the thing I was talking about earlier," they sit on the couch. "What I was describing, was me."

Roy's eyes widened slightly. Q expected the shock and thought something to prove they dont want to kill him.

"I dont want to kill you, or anyone for that matter. All I know is that besides the alchemy the truth gave me-"

"The truth?"

"Oh, I suppose it makes sense you dont know about that. When I tried to bring Daniel back I saw this thing that called itself the truth. I cant explain it but it was horrifying."

"Okay, so this Truth thing turned you into this homunculus?" Roy propped his head on his hand.

"I think? I'm actually not to sure but from what I remember in my panic state is Mariah yelling about the stone and something about giving everything up. I don't remember anything else because of the pain I was in."

"Are you saying she gave up her life for you?"

"That's what I think happened. the part I dont like is that after that, the rest of the village was dead. I think the truth also took them…"

Roy sat in silence while Q thought about what else to say. They put their face in their hands and groaned. "I wish I could explain more. I just… don't really know what happened besides that. We tried to bring him back, I almost died, and then I woke up fully healed and she's dead. All that was explained to me was that I was now a human made homunculus."

Roy sat up straight. "Well, I suppose that was more than I was expecting when we sat down. I'm going to assume that this is to be kept secret, correct?"

"I don't like the way you're talking or the look on your face. Are you really trying to cut a deal with a child?" Q glares at him. They should've expected this from some of their research they did on state alchemists in the hospital. "You want to be the king, correct? I heard talking in the hospital."

The tension was so thick in the room that you would need more than a knife to cut through it. Neither of the two wanted to answer the other. Both wanted their way and didn't want to hear what the other has to say.

"You want me to help you in some way, don't you? I would rather not have to go through all that work just for a secret… but given the secret…" They sigh. They should have declined the offer or not told Mustang.

"Given the secret you don't have much of a choice. Besides, I'm not asking much. You are a child after all  like you said before." Roy laughs internally at how much Q was reading into this. He wonders if something like this has happened before. "All I ask is that you help me when the time comes. Maybe a few things along the way but it's not what you're thinking, Q. I'm not the man to hold a secret over someone's head to make them obey like a dog."

Q stares at him, 'I doubt that looking at that smug face. But I suppose I'd rather deal with you than Bradley.'

The tension was cleared up much more than before. Q still had their doubts about the man but decided that some doubts could be fixed over time. 

There's a moment of silence before Q decides to say anything. They knew their answer already but would rather wait to make it more dramatic. They had always done this, never wanting to give in right away. Now was no exception.

"Alright." They shrug. "It's this or killing you and that would be suspicious."

"Go ahead and try if you want, doubt you can."

Q deadpans at him. "I was joking. Besides, I want to know about your flame alchemy. I would understand if you had a lighter and created a larger fire with that, but you snap and it's there."

"I can't answer that. If everyone knew, then what use would I be? What I want to know is what kind of alchemy you practice."

"Well when you first met me I just finished with human transmutation but that clearly failed. But I really just stick to the normal stuff." Q thought for a second. During the period that passed from when they became a homunculus and when they were found, they discovered a few new things about themselves

Besides just immortality, they could control their blood. If they got cut and there was blood from that wound, it could be used as a weapon. They tested it out and it was just like alchemy. They would turn it into a sharp object and shoot it like bullets, and in theory if they lost a lot of blood could use it as something more.

Another thing they had was a skeleton that could pierce through their skin without pain and act like a shield. It was quite terrifying when they first saw themselves.

How could they use this while still appearing human? Q had an answer for at least one of them. "I can also manipulate my blood and use it as a weapon because of the iron in it."

"That's impossible. There's no way you can do that." Roy stared at the child in shock. If they were telling the truth then they really are to be feared. He hoped that they would continue to side with him.

"Well correct but no. I can't do that with alchemy but that's what I'll tell everyone else at least. That's another part of me being a homunculus."

That didn't make Roy feel any better. "Wait, but doesn't that mean to use it you must be hurt first? That doesn't sound like a good plan."

"You're correct once again, Mr.Mustang."

"Just call me Mustang, 'Mr.' makes me feel old."

"Okay, Mustang. You are correct about that but luckily for me, it's not just blood flowing out of my body. As long as it is still liquid I can use it."

"...My point still stands, Q. To use this you must first get hurt."

Q wants to roll their eyes but decides not to. "Yes, that's correct, but if I were to put my blood into jars I could use that instead of having to bleed in battle." They pause, "Unless I need more, that is."

Roy smiles softly, "You've got this all thought out, don't you, kid? Well I suppose I can't stop you if this is what you chose to do."

"I doubt you would try, Mustang."

"You do have a fair point, Q." He agrees. "Oh, by the way, can I ask why your name is Q?"

"I didn't really have a name as a kid, but when a lady took me in, she called me 'Q' because of all the questions I asked." They moved their bangs out of their face, "But mainly because of the q shaped scar on the corner of forehead."

"Well, that's one way to name a kid." Roy shrugs. "I don't have a room set up for you yet, the spare isn't really a room at the moment."

The spare bedroom was completely empty besides a few boxes of random things Roy didn't know what to do with.

"That's ok. I'm fine with just the couch." Q says. "When do you think I can become a state alchemist?"

"You just got out of the hospital, Q."

"Doesn't matter. I'm homunculus so I'm fine. I want to know when I can become one." 

Mustang sighs. The kid had just gotten out of the hospital after trying to bring someone from the dead and the first thing they wanted to do is work. He wonders if they're related. "Let's see what you can do first. You can apply in a month if I think you're able to."

"Deal." Q agrees. "So I'm training with the flame alchemist, how lucky of me."

Roy stands up. "Well if you want to stand a chance against me I suggest getting some sleep."

"Alright. Goodnight, Mustang." Q yawns leaning back on the couch. Being a homunculus, they don't need to sleep but it is something they tend to do

"Goodnight, Q." Roy turns off the light and walks to his room. closing his door, he sits at his desk with the phone.

Picking it up he calls the only person he can trust with this, Riza Hawkeye.

"Lieutenant, what do 15 year olds like?"

AHHHH IM SO GLAD I FINALLY GET TO WRITE THIS!!!! also pls exuse if the writing sucks bc I havent written in a while and my first chapter is never the best (I'm working on that tho!) AND I have to write on my phone bc my laptop broke :( THIS WONT STOP ME THO!!!!

[mysterikat]

Listen Pt. 2

So it’s pretty much impossible for me to talk about Stanley without also wanting to talk about Kyle, especially considering the content of some of the more recent seasons of the show. So now I’m going to talk about the evolving state of Style, alternatively titled “How Stan Tries to Help His Emotionally Inept Super Best Friend Grow for the Better.”

I’ve already talked a bit about how Stan’s grown as a character in learning to deal with his circumstances and emotions in a healthy way, which in a way runs counter-intuitively to what one might expect from the boys. Between the two of them, Stan’s actually the more emotionally mature of the two, while Kyle struggles to express his feelings, seek healthy outlets for them, or even communicate them to others. We see repeated examples of this throughout the course of the show: in The List, Kyle nearly burns down the school due to the hurt he experiences over his false ugliness ranking, and in #REHASH he would rather lead an entire campaign over #savethelivingroom than admit his brother’s lack of desire to play video games with him hurt his feelings and that he doesn’t understand why Ike likes watching PewDiePie so much. Kyle plays the blame game quite frequently and uses moral purity as a justification for his often multifaceted outrage, and unfortunately it usually backfires somehow. Historically Kyle’s easy to take advantage of in this state, makes uninformed decisions, and does things he later regrets.

This leads us into the situation that unfolded in Season 21 with Super Hard PCness. Feeling ostracized by Heidi’s sudden turning on him in Doubling Down, and further confused and isolated by the bullying spearheaded by her, Kyle shifts blame to Canada and embarks on yet another misguided moral crusade by establishing M.A.C. (Millennials Against Canada). It’s not going to solve his actual problems, but during his phone call with Stan he claims that by doing what’s right he’s going to feel good—a feeling he’s been lacking recently, particularly in his failings with Heidi, which is what Kyle eventually confesses to Mr. Garrison is what’s truly bothering him, and what he wants the most out of all this.

In Super Hard PCness, Stan disagrees with Kyle’s behavior and calls him out for what he’s doing and for being like his mother. This is a continued reference in the episode, as Kyle’s behavior is clearly intended to mirror his mother’s behavior in the movie Bigger, Longer, and Uncut, when Sheila establishes M.A.C. (Mothers Against Canada) due to its corrupting influence over their children. Kyle’s mother also used Canada as a scapegoat, rather than listen to Kyle or acknowledge that the problem truly lied in her inability to communicate properly with her children, and that she was distancing herself from them. At the end of the movie Kyle and his mother manage to confront this and grow closer together, and I think that just like how Sheila learned the importance of genuine communication and emotional availability/accessibility in Bigger, Longer, and Uncut, so too is Kyle now learning in Super Hard PCness and beyond that he needs to apply that to himself in his relationships with other people, like Stan.

If you think about it, Kyle shutting Stan out is a frequent trend. In Ginger Cow, Kyle refuses to tell Stan why he’s allowing Cartman to step all over him (and in typical Kyle fashion deludes himself on the moral purity of martyrdom to justify his actions), so that Stan is forced to try and find the truth out for himself. And in Season 21, Stan never actually learns the extent of Kyle’s involvement with Heidi and her relationship with Cartman until the very last episode. Stan isn’t around when Kyle tries to step in and help Heidi, nor is he there in Doubling Down when Heidi turns on Kyle and implies that he’s a “dirty Jew.” Stan isn’t told any of this, and isn’t aware that Heidi is increasingly taking the lead in insulting Kyle in Super Hard PCness. It’s only in Splatty Tomato when the kids are all together and Heidi calls Kyle out about the time when she “shut him down” that Stan finds out about any of this—he’s the only other character in frame when Heidi calls Kyle out, right in the center and looking at Kyle with a surprised expression as Heidi says this. Stan’s increasing trend of standing against Kyle mirrors what Kyle was building up the courage to do in Bigger, Longer, and Uncut: to stand against his mother and point out her irrationality, and her distance. The fact that Stan was there for all of Bigger, Longer, and Uncut and was actively encouraging Kyle to stand against his mother further suggests that, considering how Sheila-like Kyle is being, this is what’s necessary for him to do in order to help Kyle in the long run.

In summary, Stan’s increasingly recognized that Kyle has an unhealthy communication problem that mirrors his mother’s, and it’s his goal to fix it the same way Kyle fixed his mother’s in the movie: by asserting himself against Kyle and confronting him. Considering Stan was the one who originally suggested the idea to Kyle in the movie, it makes sense it’s also his idea now. As the more open-minded and emotionally mature of the two, Stan’s in a perfect position to balance out this emotionally inept side of Kyle and help him express himself before he gets into trouble or comes into any harm. It’s also a wonderful example of how Stan’s reaffirmed how much he cares about Kyle and has resolved to help him grow for the better.

[milothebastardman]

If it's not too much bother could you do radmond confession? I wonder who would've been the first to come to terms with their feelings and confess

Here ya go Nonny! Hope you enjoy

They’d been tiptoeing around the issue for weeks, neither of them able to muster up the courage to admit what they felt for the other. For starters, Rad was the worst when it came to dealing with emotions that were considered to be unmasculine by society. Sure, he could read all the articles on why crying was healthy and why it wasn’t a weak thing to do, but it would take more than a handful of articles urging him to open up before he could actually do so.

Then there was Raymond, sweet, egotistical, “Nobody could ever meet my impossibly high standards” Raymond. For the record, Rad met every single one of his standards. And that was scary. Incredibly scary. Part of the reason it was scary was that he had no clue as to what Rad’s standards were, so what if he didn’t even come close to meeting them? What if Rad only liked aliens of his own kind? Or what if he wasn’t interested in a mechanic being as himself? Welcome to Existential Crisis 101, folks, with Instructor Raymond.

So, it goes unsaid that the two were painfully awkward when it came to even considering the possibility of confessing to the other. So the silent dance around the subject continued, fights between the two always involving an easily detectable tension that Enid recognized from her Angst Daily magazines. KO, as innocent and oblivious as he could be, was even able to sense that there was something off with the two. So it should be of little surprise that he was the one to try and help them fix whatever was wrong with their relationship, or in this case, the lack thereof of a relationship…

“Do you have a crush on Raymond?”, KO asked, forgoing any pretense of subtlety in a move that normally would leave the turquoise alien full of pride. Since the probing question was directed towards him, though, the pride was quickly drowned out by embarrassment and panic. The soda can he’d been drinking from was quickly crushed as he tensed, the cheap metal giving way and spewing artificial colors and flavorings onto his work uniform. In between trying desperately to clean up before it dried (he’d learned the hard way that you couldn’t remove intergalactic soda stains from clothes), he stammered out a response that was telling enough for the tiny hero.

“You DO have a crush on him!”, KO exclaimed, bouncing up and down excitedly as his best friend managed to choke on air. Rad coughed harshly for a moment, turning purple in the face as he struggled to breathe. KO was actually going to be his cause of death, he thought, then shook his head. No, having a stupid as heck crush on a dumb, evil robot was going to be his cause of death, he mentally amended. “Oh man, I can’t believe it! Well, actually I can, you’re good at all kinds of stuff but you aren’t very good at being subtle.”, KO continued, giving his alien pal a giant, 1,000-watt smile.

“… Please don’t tell Enid.”, Rad whispered, daring to glance over at the inattentive cashier. She had her nose buried in another one of those weird comics of hers, the kind you had to read all backward like, right to left instead of left to right. She didn’t even look up from her comic, she just snorted loudly.

“Rad, everyone and their mom knows about your giant, dorky crush on Raymond.”, she commented, causing the poor stocker’s heart to beat in a way that he was sure couldn’t be healthy.

“Yeah! My mommy thinks it’s like one of her old romance novels!”, KO added cheerfully, getting a little laugh from Enid.

“See Rad? Literally, everyone and their mom knows! Except for Raymond, obviously. He’s just as clueless to your feelings as you are to his.”, she finished, turning her attention away from Rad’s love life and back to the love life of the charismatic lead in her graphic novel. The alien let out a sound that was somewhere between a hysterical laugh and a sob, the idea that everyone knew about his stupid affection for a stupid robot beside the stupid robot in question proving to be a little too much for his brain. KO poked him hesitantly, unsure as to why Rad had suddenly decided to let his head bang against a shelf rather roughly.

Mr. Gar shook his head, grumbling to himself about his best stocker getting a concussion on the job just because he couldn’t buck up the courage to confess. Fully unaware of how hypocritical he was being, he retreated to his office so he could mentally rehearse ice breakers in case he ran into Carol anytime soon.

Meanwhile, things at the large factory across the road weren’t faring much better…

KO had recruited Darrell to assist in his mission of getting his favorite alien and his favorite sports loving robot together, something that everyone needed to happen already. Shannon was so close to retiring her own auditory sensors just so she wouldn’t have to process the constant stream of sincere compliments followed by half-hearted insults geared towards her least favorite Bodega Baby. Lord Boxman, evil as he could be, was still very invested in the lives his robotic children led, and simply wanted the baby of the family to be happy. Darrell was more than happy to assist his hero buddy, especially since it meant he got to play matchmaker for once.

So here he was, standing outside of Raymond’s room patiently, waiting on his youngest sibling to open up the door.

“Raymond! C'mon, I know you’re in there! Just let me in!”, he called, leaning against the metal sliding door lightly. He could hear the tell-tale signs of mechanical life, the rustling of silk sheets (honestly what else would do for the Prince of Panache?) and metallic clank of his feet on the plush carpet. The door finally slid open, a rather weary looking Raymond appearing in the doorway.

“If you ever dare to reference that blasted children’s movie again, I will personally destroy every copy of it that currently exists, and set fire to any factory that hopes to produce any more copies.”, he threatened flatly, giving his older brother a tired glare. Darrell pretended his favorite movie wasn’t just insulted and stuck a grin on his face.

“You really need to let it go.”, he commented, ignoring Raymond’s little indignant screech. He pulled the mopey robot from his room, a surprising strength to his grip as he forced the younger robot to start walking down the hall with him. “Seriously dude, you need to relax just a little bit, and handle your thing with Rad.”, he added, now dragging his frozen brother along.

“I have no idea what you could possibly be referring to.”, Raymond eventually replied with, attempting to school his face into a calm, cool mask of indifference. However, the internal panicking managed to seep into his metal features, ultimately betraying his facade. “Oh god it’s really bad Darrell!”, he cried, throwing an arm across his face dramatically. “He’s just this stupid alien with a stupid crop top and power point high heeled boots and good GOD where did he get the NERVE to pull off pink pants, black heeled boots, and a blue crop top?!?”, he ranted, huffing loudly when Darrell began laughing.

“Jeez, you really do have it bad!”, he wheezed out, patting his baby brother’s shoulder spike affectionately. The two were in in the living room now, where the majority of the robot family had gathered. Shannon was wearing quite the snazzy business outfit (Lord Boxman had secretly had a field day making his daughter such a professional, evil outfit), and was stood next to some sort of projector.

“Ugh, it’s about time you brought the Drama King here. I’ve been waiting for way too long just to give this dumb presentation.”, she griped, adjusting her skirt before she started up the projector. After a couple moments, a power point presentation titled “How to Ask an Alien on a Date” displayed on a nearby wall. Raymond let out a loud groan when he read the title slide, his face flushing as Shannon started going through the slides, using a new laser pointer feature Lord Boxman had installed on her pointer finger to draw attention to key points.

Needless to say, Raymond felt every bit as embarrassed as Rad did. While they weren’t aware of it, they were connected by the crippling waves of anxiety and mounting panic as the day wore on. Now that they knew that everyone else knew, they felt prompted to act. The big issue still remained, though: How would the other react to a sudden confession of pesky feelings? It was Rad who picked up his cell phone first, hesitating and wasting nearly an hour over what to do before he finally gave Raymond a call. As his luck would have it, of course, it went straight to voicemail. He left a quick message telling the robot to meet him in the park at 5 p.m. sharp and hung up immediately afterward.

He actually got to the park about an hour early and decided to shut his phone off, just so he wouldn’t spend the next hour or so checking it frantically to see if he’d gotten even a message back. Five eventually rolled around, and Rad was well into chewing off the nails on his left hand before he saw Raymond casually stroll into the entrance. He jumped off his branch excitedly, forcing himself to try and play it cool in an attempt to not seem too eager. Didn’t want to come off as desperate as he felt, am I right?

“Alright, so what is ever so important that you just had to drag me away from my work to this park?”, Raymond drawled, smirking as his confidence kicked into maximum overdrive.

“Oh shut it, bolts for brains. It is something very important, I’ll have you know.”, Rad retorted, leaning against his tree nonchalantly. He examined the nails on his right hand, managing to look fairly disinterested despite the inner turmoil that his brain was in. “I think we should go do something, together, like together-together.”, he suggested, glancing up after a few moments of silence to see how Raymond was reacting. His face was blank, revealing absolutely no emotion, and that was only slightly terrifying to the teen.

“… Are you asking me out..?”, Raymond replied with, his voice shaking only a little bit. His circuits felt like they were going to explode, and he could hear the sound of his cooling fans turning on as he began over heating. Rad nodded, swallowing roughly before he took a deep breath.

“Yeah, I guess… Well, I know I am. So like… Maybe we could catch a movie this weekend?”, he elaborated, every nerve in his body ablaze as hormones surged through his blood. He got an armful of excited robot in response, a choked squeak passing his lips as he was pulled into a near violent hug.

“I would absolutely adore that, darling!”, Raymond sang, pulling away from the hug with a starry look in his eyes. Rad let out a nervous giggle in response, feeling the stress and worry melt away. “I’ll pick you up around six on Saturday, alright? I’ll leave the movie choice to you, frankly, I could care less what we see.”, he continued, seemingly unaware of the tension that dissipated. No, he was too busy planning the first of what he hoped would be several stellar dates! Truth be told, Rad was too busy trying not to faint now that he realized he actually had a date with his crush. He was going to need all the advice Enid could give! Maybe her comics could help him…

[awedbyhersplendor-blog]

I just... I don’t know... I don’t know what I’m doing aha. So this is a little thing about Eleanor rescuing Abigail and bringing her to Miranda. This was seriously one of the most emotional moment of the series (for me) and the series many OT3 made me come up with this pairing idea. Yes, it is a Miranda / Eleanor / Abigail fic. Nothing but kissing happens so it’s rated G. Warnings for angst and references to Eleanor’s past relationships. 

This might get posted on AO3 one day, if I actually come up with a better title than ‘The Wheel of Fortune’ aha. Hope you enjoy reading this! =)

When one is brought to live -and run- an island the pirates call home, one quickly understands that genius is only a form of madness. After all, who would ever dare defy an empire and succeed if not someone purely mad and utterly genius? That conclusion had always highly disgruntled Mr Scott who had done all he could to prove her wrong. Sadly for him, Flint had arrived in Nassau, the maddest of them all, the most genius of them all, and had proved her right.

The lesson she had remembered from Mr Scott was this: when one wants to deal in absolutes, one will have absolute success and absolute failure. This was probably why so many ‘pirates’ refused to follow the most genius plans and looked at her as if she was utterly mad.

This was probably why she felt she had lost everything tonight.

Vane was coming after her. She intimately knew what Vane was capable of. She knew that she was going to loose everything. He was going to kick the pillar of her foundations and she was going to have to watch everything crumble.

But there was nothing she would have changed. Except, maybe, bring better tools for opening that gate.

The gentle breeze of the night felt freezing on her cheeks, her shoulders ached and she couldn’t feel her legs anymore. She could taste blood in her mouth, burning her lungs, and feel it run down her forearms from where she had cut her hands on the rusted gate.

She could also feel Abigail’s tiny hand in hers, cold from having passed so many days in a damp cell. She could hear Abigail’s short breaths behind her, as she struggled to keep up the pace.

She had won everything Flint needed for his plan, so she was going to loose everything from Vane’s revenge. When you spin the Wheel of Fortune one way, it’s going to come back to you full force. But she wouldn’t have let Abigail in the fort for the world. Not after what she had seen what Vane allowed his men to do. Once is a mistake, twice is your own damned fault.

When they finally reached the tavern, Eleanor gently tugged her hand out of Abigail’s grip, pushing her behind her as gently as she could, so she could watch if any of Vane’s men were waiting for them already.

There was no one in sight. Only Mrs Barlow, already standing up, worried and disbelieving.

Ah, that will teach her, Eleanor thought, that will teach her that I get what I want. That will teach her that I’m a genius.

A genius and a madwoman, Mr Scott’s voice in her mind added.

Eleanor stepped aside to reveal Abigail and allow her to see that she hadn’t lied, that she was safe, that she had brought her to Mrs Barlow. Or Lady Hamilton, as she had called her.

She watched Abigail walk past her, away from the nightmare, to the cradle of Mrs Barlow’s arms. The certainty with which Abigail threw herself in the arms of whom Eleanor assumed was nearly a stranger made something feel tight in her chest.

The reflex with which Mrs Barlow closed her arms around Abigail, holding her tight, contrasted with the bewildered eyes Mrs Barlow fixed away from Abigail, straight at Eleanor, made something churn in her chest.

It felt like envy. She was witnessing the end of the terrible nightmare Abigail just lived through and the start of her own. It felt like greed, like the peace and stability Flint will bring her back from Charlestown wouldn't be enough to quell the raw, desperate loneliness Eleanor felt in this moment. It felt like she was watching the Wheel of Fortune carry Abigail up, away from her, while she was getting pulled under.

It was an ugly feeling, Eleanor recognized, it tore through her, it stung, throbbed, and burnt, just like her bloody hands. One she knew she could bear and survive. And past the hurt, there was relief. Abigail was safe. That didn’t fix her previous mistakes, but that was one thing she could tell herself she had done right. Destroying oneself had that addictive taste of the things that come too easily. Guilt tasted like sea water and sand.

Abigail had told her she was a formidable woman. Maybe this was how formidable people felt. Endlessly in pain.

Eleanor jumped when she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. She turned to see Eme by her side, looking at her hands with a frown. Eleanor smiled sheepishly, as if she had only stolen a cookie from the cookie jar instead of angering Charles Vane. Eme just shook her head in a very Mr Scott-like attitude, before gently guiding her upstairs, to her bed, where the bandages were. Eme always kept her well-supplied.

« What have you done, Eleanor? » Eme asked as she cleaned the cuts on her palms.

« Something purely mad and fucking genius, I’m afraid, » Eleanor answered, closing her eyes and letting her head fall back against the wall.

***

The bottle was empty.

Fuck, Eleanor thought.

Fuck had been on her mind a lot lately.

She had tried to calm her thoughts, numb herself, forget everything while she still had the opportunity to do so. Tomorrow, she’d have to deal with the chaos she created.

Well, at least, she created this one herself, instead of having her father impose it on her. She had even surprised herself by thinking somewhat positively that she had survived one  Charles-Vane-crisis before, and that she might survive this one.

If not, well, at least, Abigail will be safe, with Mrs Barlow, preferably away from all this. Would Abigail think about her, when she receives the news of her ruin? Would she think about the formidable woman who rescued her like a knight from a fucking fairy tale?

No, Eleanor thought, no, Abigail didn’t believe in knights anymore.

Her eyes were closed but she didn’t feel sleepy, just tired. Her head was floating on a restless sea but she didn't feel drunk. This rum was weak, that’s what it was.

Would Mrs Barlow think about her, when she receives news of her ruin? Would she think: oh well the silly girl courted the noose? Good riddance? Like half of Nassau. Would she think about her in a distant nostalgic way like a half-blurry memory that didn’t really matter?

Why would Eleanor care? She was still alive, wasn’t she? She was still alive and she shouldn’t have to drink weak rum all alone.

She wondered if she could find a girl in the brothel. Probably not, now that Max owned it. She rose from her bed, the room only swimming a little, and held on to the dresser in order to follow a straight line out of the nook in her office she called a bedroom.

She made a grimace at herself when she closed the door to her office a bit too loudly. She shushed at the door and then started to giggle to herself for shushing at the door, and then she shushed herself.

Maybe that rum wasn't this weak. Maybe it was only weak because she had tasted blood earlier in the evening.

She could hear the patrons drinking downstairs, a mess of voices, shouts, clatter, roars… It felt too loud suddenly. She didn’t want to see loud, sweaty, messy men. She didn’t want to appear in this state either. She pressed her back against the wall of the corridor that lead to the kitchens. They would probably be busy down there as well.

Eleanor suddenly felt a wave of loneliness and helplessness crash over her. She remembered being swept away by a wave she had felt she could take on the beach one day. Mr Scott had taught her how to swim, but there’s nothing you can do when the wave takes you with it. You can kick and fight but you still end up taken away, away from the beach….

Here she was, waxing poetics over a wave in the middle of the night, after merely a bottle of weaker-than-blood rum. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She should go back to her room before she made a spectacle of herself in front of…

« Miss Guthrie? Miss Guthrie, are you alright? »

The soft voice. She could hear it in her mind. The soft lovely voice. When was the last time she had heard such a soft, polite voice…

« Miss Guthrie, you are drunk, come with us, » Mrs Barlow’s voice brought her back to reality. Eleanor wasn’t a woman of great imagination and it was impossible she had recreated such a unique timbre. It was impossible that she had imagined Mrs Barlow’s voice not being haughty or angry at her.

She opened one eye.

Abigail had cleaned up nicely. There was no dirt on her face and her hair had been delicately combed. It was still a little wet when the end of it laid on the top of her corset. The clothes fit nicely, which was a surprise. They had been Eleanor’s mother’s clothes. She had expected them to be too big for Abigail. The colour looked nice on her.

As she looked down, she saw Mrs Barlow’s arm around Abigail’s waist. The same tight feeling clutched her chest. She closed her eyes again to fight against it.

« Are you going to be sick? » Mrs Barlow asked her, and something in her voice, the smallest smile, perhaps, made her start.

« I can hold my fucking liquor. Just leave me alone. Eme prepared a room for you upstairs. » She said, in the harshest voice she could manage. She kept her eyes closed. She couldn’t watch Abigail react to her rudeness.

She heard footsteps walking away. Good. Now she could be slightly drunk and lonely in peace. She wondered if it would feel better if she opened that cut on her lip again and tasted her own blood.

But rum first.

She opened her eyes, only to find Abigail, alone, watching her. She blushed and lowered her eyes when she got caught staring. Eleanor tried not to chuckle, she really did. Abigail blushed harder and looked down at her shoes.

« What are you doing out there all alone? » Eleanor asked. « Go with Mrs Barlow where it’s safe. »

Abigail only looked up, cheeks still a bit flushed. Eleanor couldn’t look away. She wondered if Abigail’s hands were warm now.

« Come with us. Please. » Abigail whispered.

« I can’t. You’re… You’re all fucking proper ladies, and you’re all… You need to stay away, where it’s safe. »

« I’m safe with you. Come with us. » Abigail repeated.

That girl had guts, Eleanor thought. Most pirates didn't ask her anything twice, and they hadn’t even seen her do anything remotely as dangerous as stabbing Charles Vane in the back like Abigail had.

Abigail gently took her hand, which made Eleanor jerk away as if she had been burnt. Not this. It brought back too many memories. Abigail took a step back and suddenly, Eleanor felt bad for having pushed her away. Abigail didn’t deserve this. Abigail had reached out after having been hurt so badly.

Eleanor felt at a loss about what to do. This was an unpleasant feeling. She wanted to apologize but she didn’t know if she could say the words. She wanted to explain why but found out she couldn’t.

So she kissed her.

The kiss was a bit brutal. Their teeth clicked together. Eleanor felt Abigail tense and started to withdraw, when she felt Abigail tilt her head up for more. Eleanor’s hands reached for Abigail’s face, holding her there while she kissed her. She didn’t want to do it this way. She wanted to be soft, seduce her maybe, guide her there, look into her eyes and be a good lover. But she was a mess. Her mouth probably tasted like blood and rum. She wanted to be good, but she couldn’t because her shoulders were trembling and her heart was beating so fast in her chest it felt like it could explode. Abigail’s lips were soft and hesitant and wet and a fucking dream.

Eleanor wrenched herself away from her and started apologizing. She probably said ‘fuck’ over three times and she wasn’t sure she even said three sentences. She didn't have time to finish her litany of ‘fuck’s before she was cut off again but Abigail's kiss. It was shyer. Abigail merely pressed her lips against hers, hands on her shoulders as she stood on tiptoes to reach her lips with hers. Eleanor stood still, letting Abigail kiss her, feeling as if she had just turned to stone.

Abigail broke the kiss and Eleanor could feel her breath on her cheek for a moment before  Abigail took a step back, inviting her without touching her this time.

Eleanor followed.

She watched Abigail’s hair bounce with each of her steps. She felt beckoned. Drawn. Not to a fire that will burn her, but to a warm fireplace. She felt weary and Abigail’s flowing hair and the whisper of her skirts were guiding her towards comfort. She felt like Eurydice.

Abigail reached a door down the corridor. Her hand looked so tiny as she knocked, it felt ridiculous. All the doors should be open to her, always.

Eleanor felt awkward as they waited for the door to open.

She felt quite differently when Mrs Barlow opened the door, wearing only a shift, her long brown hair flowing over her shoulders.

Eleanor looked down and searched for an excuse to leave without hurting Abigail, but her mind was reeling from rum and the image of Mrs Barlow looking ready for bed. She looked different, with her hair down. She looked less like the haughty, prude, put-together Puritan woman.

She looked like the witch everyone told tales about. Enchanting, seducing, misleading.

Eleanor felt her cheeks heat up. She looked up just in time to see Mrs Barlow arch an eyebrow at Abigail, a smile playing on her lips. She felt absurdly guilty about kissing Abigail now.

Mrs Barlow stepped aside, letting Abigail in the room. Abigail took a step inside and Eleanor looked back to the corridor, looking for an escape plan.

« Please, » Abigail called and before she knew what she was doing, Eleanor just followed her in.

It felt nice. Just following. Tension suddenly left her shoulders in the warmth of the dimly lit room. She felt exhausted. The kind of fatigue that stuck to your bones and didn’t leave with sleep. She felt weary.

She turned to the bed. Mrs Barlow was sitting here in her thin white shift. She was watching her: « You are tired, » she stated, « you should rest. What you did… was very brave. Thank you. » Her voice was soft again. It felt like a caress on her skin.

Eleanor turned to Abigail. She had removed her own -Eleanor’s mother’s- dress and was stepping out of her shoes in a demure and utterly adorable movement, as if she was stepping in cold water. Abigail smiled at her and suddenly, Eleanor’s heart felt warm. The tightness, a distant memory. She could still feel the warmth of her lips.

She jumped a little when she felt Mrs Barlow start to remove her clothes. She took her jacket, draping it over the back of a chair. Eleanor felt tense. She didn’t know what to do with Mrs Barlow. She didn’t know what to do with herself. It was slightly irritating.

Her hands joined Mrs Barlow’s in undressing her. They frequently bumped each other as they went for the same buttons, the same ties. Soon, Eleanor was in her shift, rougher and lighter than Mrs Barlow’s and Abigail’s. Mrs Barlow pressed a hand on her back, gently but firmly guiding her towards the bed. It was bigger than Eleanor’s (but then again, Eleanor’s bed had been a captain’s berth, stolen for her) but was still only meant for two people.

Mrs Barlow’s eyes were so much softer now. Deep and dark and calm, like the ocean at night. Eleanor surprised herself by longing for this embrace. She knew that Mrs Barlow smelt like tea, earth, and citrus. Warm but cutting, as Eleanor knew. She laid down on the bed, letting her spinning head rest on the pillows. It felt strange. New. A sort of powerlessness that wasn’t threatening.

Mrs Barlow then walked over to Abigail who was just folding her clothes, a little awkwardly. The girl looked up at Mrs Barlow with a dazzling smile, lightening her features with joy and tenderness. Mrs Barlow’s arms wrapped around Abigail’s waist and Eleanor thought they would kiss, just like she had kissed Abigail outside. She felt… curious… about that. How would Mrs Barlow kiss? Would she be softer than Eleanor had been? Would she be tender or passionate? Would she…

Those questions, however, would find no answer tonight. Mrs Barlow, after having glanced at Abigail’s lips like one would look at a Spanish treasure, tilted her head up and kissed Abigail’s forehead. Eleanor noticed Abigail’s sharp intake of breath and the way her lips opened a little, whispering: “Miranda” in a longing tone. But Mrs Barlow… Miranda… only tightened her arms around Abigail, eyes closed as she pressed her lips against Abigail’s forehead.

She cannot, Eleanor thought. She cannot give Abigail what she wants. Not yet, at least. Maybe Abigail was too young. Maybe they hadn’t known long enough. Maybe Miranda was trying to spare Abigail from something only her knew about. Eleanor had never pretended knowing anything about Miranda. She could just watch Abigail’s hand hold Miranda’s as if her life depended on it, as Miranda guided her towards the bed.

Abigail immediately climbed on and went straight for Eleanor’s arms, burying her face in her neck, tucking one of her thighs between Eleanor’s, as if she belonged there. Eleanor didn't mind. She found that holding a body against her own came back as quickly as a reflex. Abigail’s feet where cold but her breath tickling her neck was very warm and comforting. Eleanor wanted to kiss her again, if only to make up for what Miranda could not do. She wanted to taste those lips again.

Eleanor jumped again when she felt Miranda climb on the bed behind her. The bed would be a little small, but Abigail made up for if with the way she was trying to bury herself right inside Eleanor. She looked over her shoulder to see Miranda draw the covers over them, looking at Abigail with a small smile.

Eleanor felt Miranda's lithe and unsurprisingly strong body press against her back, her chest against her back, filling her stomach with warmth. She pressed her thighs around Abigail’s, wishing, in a remote corner of her mind, that Miranda’s hand would find its way here. But Miranda just cuddled up against her, stretching her arm until she could arrange the blankets over Abigail’s shoulders.

Eleanor realized, as she felt Miranda’s lips press to the back of her skull, that she hadn’t thought about Charles, Max, Flint, Nassau, or chaos, since she had met Abigail and Miranda in the corridor. She had let herself be borne on waves, let herself be guided, let herself be calm in a way she hadn’t in a very long time.

The sharp, cold, spear of pain returned to her chest, inside, where she couldn’t reach for it. Where she couldn’t control it. She closed her eyes tight and let herself feel the warmth of the bodies surrounding her, let herself be soothed by the cadence of their breaths and the softness of their shifts against hers. She could smell the lavender of Abigail's hair with the cloying aftertaste of poppies.

Miranda's fingertips caressed the back of her hand, softly, where the rough bandage is wrapped. The gesture is pensive and surprisingly caring. As if she has just been in her thoughts, Miranda murmurs in her ear: « You are still on guard. You don't have to be. Not here, not now. »

« I’m not sure I want to see myself… off guard. » Eleanor murmurs back.

She hadn't intended to be so frank, to reveal so much. Miranda chuckles, but it’s not cutting. It’s soft and warm, like her breath in her hair.

« You don’t have to, but it might do you more good than you believe it will, » Miranda answers before lowering her hand to where Abigail’s has settled on Eleanor’s waist.

Mr Scott had said that, when you spin the Wheel of Fortune with full force, it came back at you full force, which just meant that the price of genius was madness. Eleanor found herself crumbling, crying, under the weight of both madness and genius, bringing the wheel down faster.

Through her ugly, uncontrollable sobs, blurred with tears, she could see and feel Abigail and Miranda, holding her, holding the wheel from pulling her under, at least for a night.

And if they succeeded in Charlestown, they might just break the Wheel before she could drown.

[isitfake]

A list of rejections of famous authors was circulating on Tumblr awhile back and, because Is It Fake was in exams at the time, Is It Fake got really into debunking them. It has now been more than a year and Is It Fake is just gonna put it up and let this roll.

See, they’re all or almost all from Rotten Rejections, a book written with a marvelous disregard for facts, and they’ve therefore been in circulation for more than twenty-five years. Some of them are entirely true; some of them are totally fake; a lot of them appear only in Rotten Rejections but can’t otherwise be disproven. Many of the stories behind them are fantastic.

As a general note, although this was only really useful for Plath, if you enjoy this we recommend “Publication is Not Recommended: From the Knopf Archives,” which is available on Project MUSE if you’ve got access and is just… it’s wonderful. Blanche Knopf was a riot.

Okay, let’s get going!

TRUE

Sylvia Plath: There certainly isn’t enough genuine talent for us to take notice.

Not only true, but actually much worse than depicted here. Internal rejection only. The editor, having been told that this is contest-winner Sylvia Plath’s book, rereads, and is marginally nicer and 500% more patronizing: "maybe now that this book is out of her system she will use her talent more effectively next time.” Accurate text available here: http://cloudyskiesandcatharsis.tumblr.com/post/57272275430/sylvia-plath-originally-submitted-her-novel-the

Emily Dickinson: [Your poems] are quite as remarkable for defects as for beauties and are generally devoid of true poetical qualities.

True! Thomas Niles to Thomas Wentworth Higginson, June 10, 1890— the brackets are wrong, because he was addressing another possible publisher, to say that he thought it would be “unwise to perpetuate” the poems, oh my STARS.

Ernest Hemingway (on The Torrents of Spring): It would be extremely rotten taste, to say nothing of being horribly cruel, should we want to publish it.

True, and directly to Hemingway himself. To F Scott Fitzgerald he managed to get up an “I am less violently opposed to Torrents of Spring than anyone else who has read it” but to Hemingway himself, nope, full no.

William Faulkner: If the book had a plot and structure, we might suggest shortening and revisions, but it is so diffuse that I don’t think this would be of any use. My chief objection is that you don’t have any story to tell. And two years later: Good God, I can’t publish this!

True. Both are true. They are so true.

The first refers to Sartoris/Flags in the Dust, and the story is really funny and sad. Faulkner sent it to Horace Liveright (his publisher) with enormous confidence: he called it the “damdest best book you’ll look at this year” and tried to ensure at this early stage that the printer not screw up his punctuation (“he’s been punctuating my stuff to death; giving me gratis quotation marks and premiums of commas I dont need.”) He also insisted that the title was perfect and that he had designed his own dust jacket which he would send by separate cover. Anyway, bye, he was going on a hunting trip, he looked forward to Liveright’s glowing acceptance!

Liveright did not exactly… do that. Besides the quote above he also noted how much he hated Mosquitoes, Faulkner’s last book, and how disappointed he was w/this one and how much he really wanted Faulkner not to submit it anywhere else, in case he got blacklisted, because the book was so, so bad.

WHOOPS

(Thanks to "Flags in the Dust and the Birth of a Poetics” by Arthur F. Kinney for those quotes.)

The second is about Sanctuary, a book Faulkner hated and described as a “cheap idea…deliberately executed to make money.” The full rejection, according to Faulkner in his introduction to the book, was “Good God, I can’t publish this. We’d both be in jail.”

Edgar Allan Poe: Readers in this country have a decided and strong preference for works in which a single and connected story occupies the entire volume.

Not quite the exact quote, because “(especially fiction)” should appear after “works” and “entire” should be “whole”— but true. Harper & Brothers rejected Tales from the Folio Club in 1836 with this phrasing, the second of their three reasons for turning the stories down. The first was that a lot of them had been printed already, and the third was that the papers were too “learned and mystical,” like spooky bonbons.

http://www.eapoe.org/papers/psbbooks/pb19781c.htm

Poe responded to this by writing The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym, which he privately referred to as a “very silly book”, and which is a classic of American literature.

MIXED TRUE/FALSE

Jack London: [Your book is] forbidding and depressing.

Sort of true. This rejection is from the Atlantic on the 3rd of May, 1900, it’s about “The Law of Life”, and it was a lot nicer than this, because according to Ellery Sedgwick’s "A History of the Atlantic Monthly, 1857-1909: Yankee Humanism at High Tide”, this was a period in which the Atlantic was being very ruthless and cynical about what would run, because depressing things didn’t sell commercially.

The full quote is, “We have heartily liked the vigor of it and the breadth of treatment with which you have written it. But the subject is forbidding—in fact seems to us depressing, and so the excellent craftsmanship of it has not changed our mind."

Stephen King (on Carrie): We are not interested in science fiction which deals with negative utopias. They do not sell.

True, but not about Carrie. It’s from Donald A. Wollheim at Ace Books and it’s about the Richard Bachman book The Running Man, which King had written after Carrie got rejected basically everywhere in the world. “The book, unfortunately, was not fantastic,” he later commented, which might’ve been because he wrote it over a weekend in a “low rage and simmering despair.” Thanks to the Stephen King Companion for this one.

UNATTESTED (AND, ONE SUSPECTS, NOT REAL)

Rudyard Kipling: I’m sorry Mr. Kipling, but you just don’t know how to use the English language.

Unattested. ID’d as the publisher of the San Francisco Examiner or Call writing in 1889, or is it 1899? Yeah, probs not, and Is It Fake couldn’t find it.

That said, the Call fucking hated Kipling. For example, the San Francisco Call did write about Kipling in 1899; it castigated him for his poem “the White Man’s Burden,” saying, “the white man’s burden is to set and keep his own house in order. It is not required of him to upset the brown man’s house under pretesce of reform and then whip him into subjection whenever he revolts at the treatment.” (Among other sources, can be found here.)

Another review of “The Lesson” from 1901 opens "KIPLING'S latest poem, 'The Lesson,’ must be very gratifying to Mr. Alfred Austin, for, if it does not confirm Austin's right to the office of Poet Laureate, it at least shows that Kipling has no better right.” 

Dr. Seuss: Too different from other juveniles on the market to warrant its selling.

Unattested. But he was indeed rejected 27 times for his first book. 

The Diary of Anne Frank: The girl doesn’t, it seems to me, have a special perception or feeling which would lift that book above the ‘curiosity’ level.

Unattested. The diary was rejected by 15 publishers before publication, but Is It Fake can’t find any of them who specifically said this. Here’s one from Knopf:

In the summer of 1950, Alfred A. Knopf Inc. turned down the English-language rights to a Dutch manuscript after receiving a particularly harsh reader’s report. The work was “very dull,” the reader insisted, “a dreary record of typical family bickering, petty annoyances and adolescent emotions.” Sales would be small because the main characters were neither familiar to Americans nor especially appealing. “Even if the work had come to light five years ago, when the subject was timely,” the reader wrote, “I don’t see that there would have been a chance for it.”

Joseph Heller (on Catch–22): I haven’t really the foggiest idea about what the man is trying to say… Apparently the author intends it to be funny – possibly even satire – but it is really not funny on any intellectual level … From your long publishing experience you will know that it is less disastrous to turn down a work of genius than to turn down talented mediocrities.

Unattested. Catch-22 (or as it was called at the time, Catch-18) was rejected over and over again, but this exact language is just vapor.

On the other hand, we have some of the language of acceptance, thanks to Vanity Fair:

“I … love this crazy book and very much want to do it,” Gottlieb said. Candida Donadio was delighted by his enthusiasm. Finally, someone got it! “I thought my navel would unscrew and my ass would fall off,” she often said to describe her happiness when negotiations went well with an editor.

And this incredible rejection from Evelyn Waugh:

Dear Miss Bourne:

Thank you for sending me Catch-22. I am sorry that the book fascinates you so much. It has many passages quite unsuitable to a lady’s reading

You are mistaken in calling it a novel. It is a collection of sketches—often repetitious—totally without structure.

Much of the dialogue is funny. You may quote me as saying: “This exposure of corruption, cowardice and incivility of American officers will outrage all friends of your country (such as myself) and greatly comfort your enemies.”

George Orwell (on Animal Farm): It is impossible to sell animal stories in the USA.

Unattested. It was rejected for a lot of reasons, but most of the ones I can find histories of were basically for it being anti-USSR at a time when the Russians were war allies. One publisher was basically ordered not to run it so as not to hurt the war effort, by somebody who later turned out to be a Soviet spy, like a lot of people in wartime Britain.

If you want to read T. S. Eliot rejecting Animal Farm for being too pro-Communist (not a joke) (jazz hands), you can find that here. 

Vladimir Nabokov (on Lolita): … overwhelmingly nauseating, even to an enlightened Freudian … the whole thing is an unsure cross between hideous reality and improbable fantasy. It often becomes a wild neurotic daydream … I recommend that it be buried under a stone for a thousand years.

Unattested. Could be real and internal, but it was never given to Nabokov, because Nabokov gave us a recounting of his rejections, and this wasn’t in them.

Is It Fake’s fave bit: "Some of the reactions were very amusing: one reader suggested that the firm might consider publication if I turned my Lolita into a twelve-year-old lad and had him seduced by Humbert, a farmer, in a barn, amidst gaunt and arid surroundings, all this set forth in short, strong, realistic sentences. (He acts crazy. We all act crazy, I guess. I guess God acts crazy. Etc.)"

Richard Bach (on Jonathan Livingston Seagull): will never make it as a paperback. (Over 7.25 million copies sold)

Unattested, and Is It Fake doesn’t even have anything interesting to say about it.

H.G. Wells (on The War of the Worlds): An endless nightmare. I do not believe it would “take”…I think the verdict would be ‘Oh don’t read that horrid book’. And (on The Time Machine): It is not interesting enough for the general reader and not thorough enough for the scientific reader

Unattested. It is the personal opinion of Is It Fake that they’re both false. The Time Machine was actually commissioned as a novel, so it’s hard to see why it’d receive a rejection like that, and both stories were serialized before publication, not run in book form, so the War of the Worlds one doesn’t ring true. Fun supplemental fact--War of the Worlds was immediately pirated upon release and rerun as “Fighters from Mars,” localized to New York and Boston respectively and run with a story called “Edison’s Conquest of Mars” about how Thomas Edison took over Mars and Is It Fake is not making this up.

Herman Melville (on Moby Dick): We regret to say that our united opinion is entirely against the book as we do not think it would be at all suitable for the Juvenile Market in [England]. It is very long, rather old-fashioned…

This must be false (no one ever appears to have been under the delusion that Moby-Dick was a children’s serial, and in fact he got it printed kind of as like an art book, a 500-book edition with great critical acclaim and no sales) but since one can’t actually prove that it is, “unattested,” but Is It Fake would like to register the strongest possible objections to anyone who would bother to make up a reason for Herman Melville to be sad, dude was like high king and priest of making his own ass sad in the desert, leave him alone

If for some reason your life has been missing negative reviews of Moby-Dick you can find the full spectrum of praise to castigation here. Personal fave goes to the writer who said “There is nevertheless in it, as we have already hinted, abundant choice reading for those who can skip a page now and then, judiciously....”

PROVABLY FAKE >:(

Oscar Wilde (on Lady Windermere’s Fan): My dear sir, I have read your manuscript. Oh, my dear sir.

False. Is It Fake can’t believe even people talking about Oscar Wilde are getting the Oscar Wilde effect. It’s attributed to a bunch of people, but the oldest attribution found was to John Clayton, from Albert Chevalier’s autobiography of 1895, as

“My dear sir, I have read your play. Oh! my dear sir! Yours truly, John Clayton.”

As Albert Chevalier was a comedian & music hall performer and this is part of a collection of anecdotes, one is perhaps not super convinced this was ever real, from anyone. (There’s also a fwithout the last line: “My dear sir, I have read your play. Yours, Fred Thompson.”

Gertrude Stein spent 22 years submitting before getting a single poem accepted.

Possibly true, in that Is It Fake can’t find the date of publication of her first poem, but not substantively true, in that Three Lives ran when she was 35, so unless we’re counting whatever she submitted at 13, this is false. Stein was constantly and continually rejected though. Like just absolutely constantly, and crushingly too. This rejection letter is particularly amazing.