#well let me labor under my perception a little longer!!!!

[llycaons]

mistborn is extremely juvenile in its 'anti-imperial' (and even thats a stretch) philosophy but it's surprisingly unrelenting so far. and I honestly prefer a protagonist who freely hands out money to beggars and plans to overthrow the government in order to improve their lot to a poor con artist who suddenly realizes saving a noble family is her actual most important duty and a cop protagonist who had to suppress the urge to arrest old women reading tarot cards (but it's okay because he's actually a masked vigilante). like the mask of mirrors tries to have such an elaborate racial hierarchy and system of social injustice but it doesn't actually make any sense and it's incredibly frustrating bc it fails repeatedly to realistically and meaningfully comment on the world it creates while pretending it's so complex. mistborn aims a little lower intellectually (neither of them are near the realm of say, baru cormorant) but imo it actually has better politics (SO FAR) than MoM and is more successful as a result in both its goals and as an entertaining read

[azulaang-chakras]

"I want you to be a part of my future." For Azulaang

6. "I want you to be a part of my future."

Waking on a morning that followed an hour’s worth of sleep felt similar to rising after a night of ten hours. Azula’s eyes crept open slowly, like a snake in the shade looking for the sun. The first thing she wanted to do was stretch, to shake the stiffness out of her muscles. She wanted to yawn, long and loud. She couldn’t. She didn’t want to wake him.

The lemur sat curled at the foot of their bed. The heavy, rhythmic breathing of the bison from the next room pressed against the wall and spilled from the open door that connected their rooms. That Momo seemed fine with sleeping on either side of the bed now was a comforting thought. That she had grown almost reliant on the sound of Appa’s snoring to fall asleep was as bewildering to her as it was amusing.

The sounds of the Southern Air Temple came through the window on the breeze. Some of the new Air Nomads took their master’s teachings on rising and sleeping early too literally. The monks and nuns would no doubt be starting their morning meditations soon. Someone would be putting the first fruit pies into the ovens by now while also doing their best to keep the lemurs out of the kitchen. Others would be sweeping dust and fallen leaves off the temple grounds, tending to the gardens and orchards, sewing or washing clothes, cleaning dishes, all the constant, mundane labors that kept civilizations alive. She could precisely envision what one of the temple residents was doing at the moment. The girl, a fifteen-year-old who had only recently joined them, still felt that she didn’t belong, a feeling Azula knew all too well. She had caught the girl on multiple occasions looking for an extra chore to do so that the others would see her as useful. When the Nomads stopped to play their games, the girl would stand on the sidelines, too afraid to join the revelry. The master of the temple, as compassionate as he was, could be forgiven for failing to notice an individual’s crippling shyness when he had the needs of the group, the needs of the whole nation, weighing on his mind and shoulders. Azula would find her later and again encourage the girl to join one of the games. She would order her to have fun if that’s what it took.

She wasn’t their lady, as the Air Nomads knew no nobles or royals, no leaders save the wisest of their own, but she knew these people as well as a good queen knew her realm, and wanted nothing but the best for them.

Her ears took in the whole world around her. Her eyes, however, only cared for the man still sleeping in her bed.

Aang was such a peaceful sleeper, so unlike her. He preferred to sleep while embracing her, even if it meant waking up to a numb arm. She had convinced him to settle for letting one hand rest lazily on her back. The drool on his pillow chipped away at the image of the all-powerful, respectable avatar, but it amused her. It humbled him slightly, and gave her something to make fun of.

She stared at him for however long it took for him to finally wake. He blinked slowly, trying to escape the feeling that wanted him to shut his eyes again and fall back asleep. Once he made eye contact with her, though, there was no way he would allow himself to sleep in. “Hey,” he whispered, his voice deep and parched, as it was every morning. His hand slowly rubbed her back, appreciating the smoothness of her skin.

“Morning,” she replied. The way her voice sounded so soft in her ears whenever she was alone with him still surprised her. She never thought she could be this way around anyone, or that she’d find someone who made her want to be like this. What had been drilled into her since birth as a weakness had been turned by him into an invaluable power.

He could bend her perceptions and feelings as easily as if they were air and fire.

“How’d you sleep?” asked Aang, the ever attentive and caring lover.

She gave a half-hearted shrug. “I think you already know.”

She thanked Agni that last night hadn’t been particularly bad.

Aang didn’t have to be the light sleeper that he was to quickly stir awake when he slept next to her on one of her bad nights. The first time they slept together, she had thought it a miracle that she hadn’t ruined their intimate moment. The middle of the night had proven her fears well justified, when a scream erupted from her nightmares into reality.

Don’t touch me, she had thought as her tiny, shivering frame rocked in his arms that night.

Don’t let me go, had been the next thought.

Her mind had called him a liar when he assured her that she was safe, that it was going to be okay. She couldn’t deny when he reminded her that he was there for her.

Azula had never truly grown accustomed to her bad dreams, but she had once reached a point where she had accepted them, like an old warrior who accepted the poorly crafted piece of wood that had long replaced their lost leg. That had changed once she started sleeping with Aang. It had proven that the old wound she thought was finally closed was actually infected, and needed to be reopened so that it could be properly tended to.

While some minds had to rely on fantasy to craft their nightmares, Azula’s mind only needed her memories. The image of Aang writhing painfully in the air as her lightning surged through his body. The venomous, shameful smile she wore when Zuko fought father, or the way he struggled in the dirt after she struck him down. The blinding fury that had seized hold of her and almost killed Mai. She had never truly forgiven herself for any of that. Perhaps the most frustrating thing about Aang was that he had unequivocally proven that she had never started to heal. That he was willing to help her was a close second.

It made her feel cowardly and selfish, the way she had come to rely on the shelter his arms could provide her. It made her feel weak whenever she thought of how she relied on his strength to make up for her own shortcomings. It was the avatar’s duty to bring peace and balance to the world. Only the greedy princess of the Fire Nation could demand that he do the same for her.

She knew she didn’t deserve him. She also knew he disagreed with such conclusions.

“What do you want to do?” he inquired. “Sneak some breakfast out of the kitchen? Take a morning flight to the next mountain over?”

“Maybe later,” she answered. “I just want to lay here for a while longer.”

He gave her a little smile that was more welcome than the sunlight seeping through the gap between the curtains. “As you wish.”

He nestled back into bed and closed his eyes, moving a noticeable inch closer to her. Normally, a shared silence was enough, but Azula was overtaken by an impulse, one she could not ignore but wasn’t sure how to properly embrace. A healer Aang had put her in touch with, one who saw to ailments of the mind instead of the body, once counseled her to speak honestly with those she cared about. “Look at me, Aang.”

“Always,” he indulged. He turned to rest on his shoulder so that he could slip his free arm under her, enclosing her in his embrace.

A huff of a laugh escaped her nostrils. The way she would tease his romantic side never failed to please him, and the sight of his joy never failed to please her. Knowing that she had inspired such feelings in him put her in an undeniably good place.

“Tell me what’s on your mind,” he asked.

She pressed a hand gently to the center of his chest. “Are you sure you want to know?”

“Of course.”

She took a single, deep breath to calm her muffled nerves and find her resolve. “I spent too long not knowing what to make of you.”

“And now?”

One of the first things she had learned about Aang, when he had returned to her life to give her a chance to truly learn about the man behind the avatar, was that if she acquiesced to traveling an inch with him, he could easily convince her to travel a mile. He always wanted to hear what was on her mind, and knew just what to say to help her put words to her thoughts. “I can think of two things I’ve decided about you,” she explained.

“Would you tell me what they are?” he asked with optimistic curiosity.

“I wish you lived in a better place in my past.” If she could tear the memories from her mind, she gladly would. Even if she had to tear something good out with them, at least the intrusive, ugly images would be gone. But she couldn’t, so the bad remained with the good.

“And the second?”

Azula took a moment to study his gray eyes, the warmth of his chest as she felt it rise and fall with his breathing, the way his strong hands felt gentle against her skin. She moved her hand up until her palm covered his cheek. “I want you in my future.”

His smile widened, exposing the grin beneath. He pulled her closer until her chest met his and kissed her. Azula never wanted to know another morning when those lips weren’t there to greet her.

He only stopped to kiss her cheeks, the first stop of his lips on their familiar journey southwards. “Don’t get sappy on me, avatar,” she teased.

She could feel the satisfaction in his smile as his mouth fell against her again and again. “We’re far too late for that, princess.”

A light stream of laughter flowed from her throat, and Aang kissed every sound as it traveled up her neck.

[fae-fucker]

Review: Stolen Thorn Bride by Kenley Davidson

Can a stubborn farm girl steal the heart of an elf king who has sworn never to love again? After a century of war, the elves of Abreia are losing hope. Their greatest defender—Dechlan, king of the Northwatch—lies near death, and only a soul bond with a human bride can save him. The problem? No humans have set foot on elven lands for over a hundred years. Kasia is no stranger to the fight for survival—she’s spent her life in the far northern reaches of Garimore, struggling to provide for her three siblings. When she’s captured by a trio of beautiful but terrifying elven warriors, her only thought is to return home, until they inform her she must marry their king… or be put to death. Both Kasia and Dechlan are reluctant to accept their unwanted bond, until the elves’ ancient enemy rises up to threaten both their worlds. Kasia might just be the key to ending the war, but only if she is willing to sacrifice the life she’s always known. And only if Dechlan is willing to risk losing the bride he never expected, but is no longer certain he can live without.

The seventh short novel in the Stolen Brides of the Fae series. We’re almost at the end, gang!

After the emotional journey of rage and despair that was Threadwitch Bride, I was ready for the worst, and was pleasantly surprised. It may have colored my perception of this book, but let’s get on with it, shall we?

This book has similar elements to previous Stolen Bride books: Kasia is a farmer-adjacent peasant girl who needs to take care of young siblings, she’s plucky and spunky and blonde, and she also has secret hidden magic that she wants to suppress. Meanwhile, Dechlan is not a fae, he’s very specifically an elf (the fae exist in this world and are mentioned as separate entities), and he’s not the elf king, but rather an elf king, as there are several lesser kingdoms under one, even fancier king, who’s actually in charge of the kidnapping. Meaning the hero doesn’t even do the stealing this time, but that’s in the blurb at least.

So it’s a plucky human farm girl and a broody elf king. Sounds pretty generic, right? And it is! But this book is an example for why I defend clichés and tropes: when they’re done well, they’re fun and good!

Kasia is honestly a delight. Meg from Midsummer Bride wishes she was Kasia, and while I can’t exactly pinpoint why they’re different to me, I think it’s narrative agency. Meg was plucky but went with the flow, Kasia takes control of the plot and affects it directly. Even though she is lured into the elf lands, she doesn’t let herself be pushed around, and I was actually surprised and impressed with how she bossed the elves around despite thinking she had no power.

Like, there’s something very compelling about a female character who, despite thinking she’s powerless and below all these pretty and prim elves, still doesn’t let herself be mistreated. In fact, she even purposefully provokes and gets on their nerves at several points. You can easily see why Dechlan fell in love with her, because she verbally bitchslaps people into obedience and we love to see it! She also doesn’t get a billion descriptions of how ugly but gorgeous she is, and she canonically is physically strong and has actual muscles from all the manual labor she does. I also loved how honest she was? While there was the obligatory third act misunderstanding/miscommunication, I was genuinely surprised when she straight up told Dechlan that she didn’t want to involve herself with him because she might fall in love with him, and she didn’t want to do so because then she’d be in the shadow of his lost lover, and if she were to love him she’d want all of his heart for herself. Like, that’s genuinely a baller move, and she says it so simply and it just hits, ya know?

Dechlan himself is just a depressed bastard. He comes off as cranky and sad, and though he’s not as fun to read as Kasia, I’m okay with him being a support character to her journey. While he does get his own little arc of letting go his first love, it’s not suuuuper impactful and could’ve used more time. I was honestly pleased there wasn’t as much emphasis on their physical differences and how strong and sexy and domineering Dechlan is, because he just wasn’t. He’s kind of a sick sad sack for the most time, which was refreshing. Like yes he was still hot, because this is a romance novel, but there weren’t uncomfortable Disney levels of sexual dimorphism going on and no weird implied sexual dynamics with “claiming” and all that shit. (Also yes, a few of the other books in the series are indeed guilty of this, despite being “clean.” I guess nothing’s so clean that we can’t sneak in some ill-fitting fetish stuff in right?) 

There’s also the -- at this point obligatory -- animal sidekick, Aral, who’s a big ol��� spooky doggo. And for once I actually quite enjoyed the sidekick, he wasn’t overly peppy or cute and Kasia had a genuine connection with him that felt real. It didn’t feel like something that was shoved in there for the sake of it, the wolf felt like a natural part of the world that Kasia just bonded with.

See? You can do simple things and clichés well!

The main flaw of the book is probably the length, again. I would’ve loved to see more of these leads and give them more time to develop. The falling in love itself was pretty quick, but I enjoyed them together and it felt realistic that they’d fall in love eventually, Kasia kicks too much ass to not get a hot elf husband, so I wasn’t super miffed about the speed of it.

At first I also thought the ending was a bit of a copout, but after giving it some thought I think it worked just for how bittersweet it was and it made enough sense that I accepted it and came away from the book feeling satisfied and happy that I read it.

So yeah! This one is an easy four stars. It’s not groundbreaking, but it has a genuinely fun and active heroine, an appropriately brooding hero, a fun doggo sidekick and a cute soulmate love story with a magic-y backdrop. If you’re into this sort of thing, this could be an easy breezy afternoon read!

I still don’t know what the thorn in Thorn Bride refers to, though. I guess the Hedge dividing the human lands from the elf ones? Idk.

[ataswegianabroad]

Alone Amongst the Gum Trees Part 4 - Digital News Report: Australia - A Murdoch Review

NOTE - this article has been migrated to Medium. As of 2021, A Taswegian Abroad will be closed down, and all of my writing will be published on my Medium profile.

---

After seeing a significant public outcry to my story based on a response to Sally McManus on twitter - I recently spoke with the ABC on being an Aussie overseas and the challenges we’ve faced getting home. The failure once again of Morrison’s government to provide enough vaccines and a proper quarantine system (covered up by the Murdoch Press protection racket) is having real implications on everyday Australians.

I strongly believe that for this to change, the media needs to perform its function of holding both elected officials, and their peers in the press, accountable for such actions.

Until Australia has reestablished media fairness among the press, improved media literacy amongst its citizens, and have mostly removed the cancer of Murdoch’s News Corp dominating mainstream media, we will never break this cycle of government ineptitude, gaslighting, negligence, and outright corruption with little to almost zero accountability.

You don't need to look far for proof. The ones that immediately come to mind for me:

2020 Bushfires and consistent climate change denial - "I don't hold a hose mate"

Freedom of speech is threatened where internet comedians get arrested in their own homes for making jokes about a LNP Deputy Premier

Kate and the horrendous Christian Porter alleged rape case

The four stage plan to make a plan about having a plan for Covid, 18 months into the pandemic, with literally no dates or vaccination targets.

Back in March, I caught onto calls for a Murdoch Royal Commission by former prime minister Kevin Rudd, and since then I’ve been keeping a very sharp eye on the Australian media landscape.

Despite over 500,000 petition signatures and the ramping exposure by Rudd online (leading to a full senate enquiry), the Murdoch press is doing its best to discredit, misdirect, or, blatantly ignore the storm that’s brewing. A couple of major things have caught my attention since that date.

News Corp outlets are still consistently cowing their competitors at Nine, Seven, the ABC, and more into towing the pro-Coalition narrative THEY choose, or, risk facing character assassination. This applies to everyone who dares step out of line: reporters, ministers, producers, senators, editors, presenters, janitors… no one is safe.

This sort of behaviour and influence is not easy to show on graphs and charts, but if you read between the lines, you can see it. Let me show you.

The ABC Presents the Data

In April of 2021, the ABC published a fact-file article outlining the power of the Murdoch press - the first article from an at least somewhat reputable source addressing this that I’ve seen on this topic.

The biggest things I took from it are that despite there seeming to be a diverse ownership pool across many mediums, News Corp (Murdoch) newspapers significantly dominate the national market for print papers, and, have recently been crowned leaders of the #1 source of news for Australians: social media (via mostly viral, opinion, and video based content primarily from News.com.au and Sky News pages on Facebook and YouTube).

Remember this point - spoiler alert: it’s important.

At the recent senate enquiries, News Corp claims there is in fact diversity - focusing on different mediums such as online, social media, radio, television etc. available to represent “diversity”. This is response refers to medium diversity, and is quite frankly a misdirection based on a technicality to avoid the real question. Classic News Corp.

Rudd says “each story published online or broadcast over the airwaves finds its point of origin in a print story, often a Murdoch print story". The former PM is referring to content diversity where factual reporting reigns supreme, and different points of view are given equal time in the sun without the blurring of opinion and fact.

As Kevin likes to say: “pigs might fly”

While you might be thinking “so what? News Corp is strong in print and social, Nine is strong for television and online news, ABC is strong on radio and social, Seven is strong on radio and television etc” - I’d like to ask you a question: where then is the accountability for elected officials in the media?

The Murdoch press won’t say a word about the Coalition’s ever growing laundry list of corruption, negligence, ineptitude or incompetence, but if a Labor politician sneezes, they’re likely to be labelled a Covid super spreader on the front page of 15 national and state papers the next day.

How about this doozy from the Herald Sun in May 2021 after Dan Andrews quite literally broke his back and took medical leave:

I didn’t see one peep from the Murdoch reptiles about Morrison's three day actual disappearing act only last week after his bogus "AstraZeneca is OK for under 40’s / go to your GP” comments.

The key thing to point out here is that the news provider who ranks number one in Australia's largest news medium (social media) is a well known right wing protection racket that doesn’t show any signs of slowing down, and there's mountains of evidence that exists to prove they don’t play a fair game.

Let’s Go To the Numbers

To really drill down into how important online media control is, I found the Digital News Report: Australia 2021 (i.e “the report” for the rest of this article), recently published by the University of Canberra by way of the Reuters Digital News Report: 2021

Below I've outlined a number of key headers from the report, and more specifically tried to point out exactly where Murdoch and News Corp are exploiting and manipulating their way into control. The data shows us both what has been going on, and the direction it will likely continue in.

Having worked in digital marketing for the better part of the last four years, I couldn’t wait to dive into this data and explain just how much of a rort this all is for the sake of profit.

1: Local News

Replaced by Murdoch Sky News, Invests in Social Media

“For ‘hard news’ such as local politics, economy, crime and health, local news consumers continue to turn to traditional local news outlets, such as the newspaper or TV. However, for most other news and information, consumers are using internet search and other internet sites to get localised information.”

The report tells us that:

“2020 was a difficult year in Australian news sector, with news companies closing or suspended. This is in part a response to the COVID-19 pandemic, but it reflects a longer-term gradual decline in newspaper consumption that is replaced by online offerings”

So why did the BBC report in 2020 that Murdoch shuts 112 Australia print papers in major digital shift? CNN covered it too, as did the Guardian. I couldn’t find anything on a Murdoch owned site or outlet. That’s because Rupert is rolling out “Sky News Regional” to replace them all.

The report outlines:

“This year’s data highlights the important role of newspapers in generating a sense of community, particularly among older news consumers . Further, newspapers are perceived to be the best source of information about local government and politics, which is central to the functioning and accountability of local communities. It is important for industry and government to remember that the closure of a local newspaper not only leaves a gap in the provision of quality news, but also a loss of critical information that is connected to people’s sense of attachment to their community”

How on earth does one far-right Sydney run “news” channel represent hundreds of regional communities? Answer: It doesn’t - it’s designed to influence regional voters to think the way that suits the Murdoch press agenda.

2: Impartiality of News

Murdoch Cuts ABC Funding via Coalition, Ramps-Up Online Polarisation

The report tells us that 

“traditionally, values of independence, and impartiality — or ‘objectivity’ — have been central to journalism’s mission and deemed important to perceptions of trust in news. However, in the digital media environment, former demarcations between news, features, opinion, and advertising continue to blur.

“News audiences are becoming more polarised and are increasingly attracted to news brands that offer partisan perspectives.”

What you’re seeing here is that while the data reveals a strong desire for news outlets to attempt fairness, balance, and an impartial approach to reporting - the demographics more likely to use social media (the medium that Murdoch now leads, mostly containing Millennials and Gen Z) are less supportive of impartiality, neutrality and giving equal time. More on this in Part 8.

On the flip side: 

"news consumers who prefer impartiality are much more likely to say they distrust news on social media.”

“Both the 2020 and 2021 data highlight that these traditional journalism ideals are more strongly supported by older generations and those who use traditional sources of news."

You need not look further than the blatant defunding of the ABC to see how the Murdoch Cancer continues to take over.

So, if the majority of Australians believe the ABC is impartial and does a “good job”, why has the ABC had $783m in funding cut since 2014 by the Coalition government?

Seems to suit the Murdoch agenda pretty nicely.

3: News Representation

Low Media Literacy in Under-Represented Demographics

“Importantly, a large proportion of Australians say they don’t know if the amount of media coverage of ‘people like them’ is sufficient or fair. Those who have low education are much more likely to say they don’t know. This indicates a lack of engagement and adequate media literacy to identify misrepresentation and bias in the news.

“Combined with a lack of awareness about misinformation, lower interest in and consumption of news, these findings confirm the ongoing need for targeted media literacy interventions"

The only way the public can push back against misinformation is by knowing they’re witnessing it first hand. That does not suit what Murdoch is selling.

Misinformation breeds confusion, smoke and mirrors, and is aided by political spin, gaslighting and stone throwing to keep people moderately confused and ultimately giving up on understanding the “truth”, or, deciding their own convenient version of truth.

The closure of the Australian Alternative Press due to revoked funding by Nine and News Corp in 2020 should be enough to tell you the media landscape is gravitating consistently to the right.

4: News Access

People Losing Interest, Murdoch Keeps the Elderly Onside

As traditional mediums (television, radio, and print) are on the decline, social media and online news is on the rise with the aid of mobile device popularity (45% of Australians preferred news devices).

It's not a surprise to learn that during COVID-19, older Australians have increasingly turned to social media platforms to get news.

“The percentage of 75+ who use social media as their main source of news has more than tripled in two years from 3% to 10%. Among this age group, social media is now comparable to print use.” the report states.

While it’s hard to point this as a direct plot by News Corp, this is still great news for Murdoch. All News Corp had to do was weaken the traditional mediums that aren’t making them as much money, and push the audience toward social media. It worked.

75+ votes still count, and they are more likely to click the “clickbait” articles to make News Corp that sweet, sweet ad platform revenue.

5: Emerging New Habits 

Murdoch Funds the Fuel for the Fire

Despite people being somewhat varied on their social media usage for news specifically, the important statistic here is that more than half of Australians consume news videos.

The below statistics from the ABC should set alarm bells screaming. To put it plainly:

More people on social media than ever before

Murdoch ramps up social media content (Facebook posts / videos & YouTube videos mainly), then mega-funds paid advertising on said content

Drives subscribers and views through the roof

Overtakes ABC (yes, the one he’s got his politician friends/puppets actively defunding)

Don’t believe me? See for yourself.

The ABC outlines that: 

“Fact Check has analysed audience data for media accounts on what Canberra University found were the two most popular platforms: Facebook (used by 39 per cent of news consumers ) and YouTube (21 per cent).”

“Data from the analytics site Social Blade shows that Sky News Australia's YouTube channel had more than a million subscribers at the start of 2021, having doubled its following in just six months. Its subscriber base began to pull ahead of Channel 7 and Channel 9 from mid-2020, and by March 2021 Sky had overtaken ABC News”

The University of Canberra report aligns to these trends, and summaries that:

“Australian news consumers are accessing news online from a diverse range of sources including news videos, podcast apps, and numerous social media platforms alongside traditional branded news websites.”

“Although social (media) is the most common main pathway to news online it is common for consumers on Facebook, Twitter, YouTube and Instagram to say they mostly see news incidentally while they are on those platforms for other reasons.”

6: Trust and Misinformation

Rupert’s Bread & Butter

“Tackling disinformation and misinformation is complex and won’t be solved by platforms alone. Responsibility must be shared across governments, digital platforms, users, news media and society to make sure Australians can access accurate and reliable news and information online, while ensuring rights to freedom of expression are protected.”

Creina Chapman, Deputy Chair, Australian Communications and Media Authority

This in part ties back to my earlier points in part 3 regarding media literacy - the report indicates that trust remains high where people use both multiple mediums AND multiple sources for news. This is further compounded by the evidence that low educated readers are less likely to know they’ve encountered misinformation.

The report confirms this by indicating:

“The differences between high and low educated Australian consumers in relation to concern about COVID-19 misinformation and their ability to discern it, points to an ongoing need to boost media and information literacy among socio-economically disadvantaged groups in Australia”

The ABC and SBS still continue to be the most trusted brands, however, it needs to be highlighted that “Local or Regional Newspaper” comes in third (62% trustworthy) - the vast majority of which Murdoch owns.

In 2020, survey participants were most concerned about Australian governments and politicians being sources of general misinformation (35%), followed by activists or activist groups (20%).

Despite this, 2021 shows that trust in news has increased in 2021 (43%), rebounding off trust associated with COVID-19 news reporting. The report breaks this down further:

“The data show(s) that concern about journalism as a source of misinformation about COVID-19 is very low (9%). In 2018, we asked about ‘fake news’ and 63% of news consumers said they were concerned about poor quality journalism as a source of ‘fake news’, and 40% said they had encountered it. This signals a possible positive shift in perception of journalism after 12 months of reporting expert health advice about the COVID-19 pandemic.”

"The data also highlight(s) ongoing low levels of trust in news found on social media (18%) compared to trust in news generally. Given much of the news encountered on digital platforms is the same as that which appears on the homepages and front pages of well-respected news brands, the findings suggest that the nature of the online environment itself is one the factors lowering perceptions of trust, rather than the news content."

Creina Chapman, Deputy Chair, Australian Communications and Media Authority states in the report that:

“In the context of online news, nearly two-thirds of Australians remain concerned about what is real and fake on the internet. And a variety of surveys over the past 12 months have shown a concerning portion of the population believe dangerous falsehoods about COVID-19 that have been circulating online.

"Any lack of trust in authoritative or reliable sources of news and information is particularly worrisome during a global pandemic, as it may drive people to spaces where misinformation is more prevalent. This, in turn, increases exposure to false conspiratorial narratives that can result in real-world harm to both individual users and broader societal institutions”

Where does Murdoch benefit here? Same as always: smoke, mirrors, confusion, and spin all wrapped into enormous volumes of social media content.

7: Paying for News and Funding Journalism

Conveniently Avoiding the Issue

“To ensure media diversity and plurality in Australia, a mix of substantive, fiscal measures is necessary to support, transition and stimulate existing news businesses and encourage new entrants”

Anna Draffin, Chief Executive Officer, Public Interest Journalism Initiative

Despite a fair and balanced media being a must-have for any democracy - this is not surprising, given the low amounts of trust for online media content. Overall, given that Australians are not concerned about the poor financial state of news outlets, it’s sad but not surprising that many feel the government should not step in to help.

What is the most dangerous here is the simple fact that when there’s no money to fund decent and ethical journalism, we end up with tabloids, opinion pieces, shock jocks, and anything that just gets you to first: SEE it (an “impression” in the marketing world) and second: CLICK on it. Both of these things make News Corp richer.

Here’s the report evidence:

“A quarter (25%) of left-wing news consumers and 27% of centre-leaning are supportive of government intervention (to assist struggling journalism). However, more than half of right-wing (58%) news consumers are opposed to government assistance for financially struggling news companies."

“This is consistent with the findings that left-wing news consumers are more likely to say they are concerned about the financial state of news businesses (41%) compared to centre (37%) or right-wing (34%) news consumers”.

News consumers who think their political views are represented fairly for online news are another win for Murdoch. This is compounded by the fact that those who think news should take a position are also more likely to pay for that news.

That means if the mainstream media is pro-right wing, for example, then more people look at right wing news and pay for right wing reporting, ultimately leaving the left without funding, and fighting a losing battle. All Murdoch needs to do is discredit who he deems as “left” and it’s game over.

But Murdoch doesn’t need subscriptions. That’s just pocket money for him. With the introduction of the News Media Bargaining Code, Rupert & News Corp continue to improve their financial revenue streams through digital marketing strategies (views and clicks) without needing people to pay for fact based, objective journalism.

8: Political Orientation

Stealing the Centre & Making Opinion the “News”

Of all the elements of this report, this one shocks and upsets me the most.

The majority of Australians (61%) identify with the centre-left of politics (30% political ‘centre’ and 31% identify as either ‘very left-wing’, ‘fairly left-wing’ or ‘slightly left of centre’).

Only 22% of Australians align themselves with the right wing, and 18% don’t know their political orientation.

Younger generations have historically been the drivers of progressive social change, and younger Australians are more concerned about the environment and the impacts of things like climate change and equality.

Clare Armstrong, National Political Reporter at the The Daily Telegraph outlines in the commentary that: 

“many young Australians may rightly feel their futures, livelihoods and social activities have been either jeopardised or overlooked by a centre-right government, and subsequently a larger cohort has been pushed toward the left”

To begin in closing, based on this - how do Conservative/Right Wing parties keep winning federal elections?

It’s by doing exactly what we’ve mentioned in the first 7 sections:

Flooding the online and social media landscape with non-factual spin and confusion

This is aided by the bedrock of owning the majority of national, capital city, and regional papers which in turn steer the daily political narrative on television/radio

This is all driven home by bullying competitors into following suit, or, suffering the consequences

There is no governing or peer run body with teeth (or guts) to hold Murdoch and News Corp responsible or accountable

According to the report; 

“Younger generations, who say they feel less attached to their local community, and who also access social media widely for general news, are more likely to seek local news and information from the internet and online platforms.”

As Clare Armstrong also states: 

“Social media has significantly fuelled political polarisation in the last decade as its algorithms, by design, show users more of what they want to see, rather than a broader mix of ideas presented in traditional media.”

In summary - this quote from the Political Orientation trends leaves a long-lasting impression on my psyche:

“Left-wing news consumers (61% of the country) are more comfortable with news that takes a position rather than maintaining neutrality.”

Rupert has them right where he wants them: thinking that opinion is news.

[callmethehunter]

New Robert Fan Fic: Maggie and Robert Part 3

Well, the time has come! My first posting of NSFW Robert Fanfic.  Thank you once again to @firethatgrewsolow​  for help with edits and sanity checks. :)     

 As a recap, Maggie and Robert are talking and getting to know each other... Previously in Part 2:

[As he sings her a song….]

“She knew she was done for.  His voice was ...she could not put words to it… his voice did things to her.  How he climbed octaves effortlessly, sang with such feeling and passion.  He was simply irresistible.  Steve was but a distant memory as she adjusted her body to be closer to him, purposely grinding her ass closer to his obviously growing erection.   Suddenly a wave pounded on the rocks below, drenching them in an instant and interrupting their moment.  

They yelped in unison, jumped up and quickly but carefully made their way off the slippery rocks onto the sandy beach below.  Dripping wet, they scampered toward the boardwalk slowing as they spotted a lifeguard tower not too far ahead. They both looked at each other.

“Robert!  Let’s go there. We can sit on the ramp while we dry off, and you can serenade me.” she teased him as she led him by the hand in the direction of the  tower...

Part 3:

 In her hyperawareness, Maggie  registered his doubts and added “Robert, you have a beautiful voice, and all I want is for you to remember me so I can get backstage when you’re rich and famous OK?  So remember this face, “ she said as she pointed to herself.  With that, she twirled like a ballerina, nailing a perfect pirouette in the air, and landed gracefully on the sand, before running towards the tower, her long wavy hair trailing behind her.

 She looked so wild and carefree, he wanted to capture her and keep her to himself, -this gem of a girl, this diamond in the rough.  He took off in chase, his long legs bridging the gap between them until he had caught up with her.  Both of them were still laughing as they reached the tall wooden structure where lifeguards stood watch during daylight hours.  Out of breath, they settled on the ramp looking out toward the ocean.  

She draped her tanned legs across his, as he looked on approvingly, sweeping his eyes over them and back to her face.  Her cheeks were rosy from the exertion and her brown amber eyes sparkled at him. 

He’d somehow managed to salvage the joint and took a hit. He gently pulled her onto his lap, to resume the seating arrangement that had been cut short by the wave.  He adjusted her body so that her ass was resting squarely on his thick thighs.  They sat in this manner, their breathing getting back to normal from the run.  The silence seemed natural and neither one of them made any move to fill the moment with words.  She felt the warmth of his body transferring to hers, the breeze on her wet skin and hair.  Each of her senses was in full alert.

Heat rippled through her as she felt an arousal so intense that she would forever remember that moment as encompassing the essence of what it meant to be alive and in line with the desires and intent of one’s heart.  Waves of emotion overflowed, threatening to drown her and she was struck dumb, once again, unable to form words, staring down at his hand which had come to rest on her bare thigh.  

His large, strong hand, with thick veins, the dirt under the nails and calluses on the palms spoke of hard manual labor which would explain Robert’s toned and muscular physique.  She took that translucent hand into her own, kissed it reverently, and placed it against her cheek. 

Studying it, she whispered, “Your hand is telling me your life,” vivid sensations, rapid psychedelic thoughts crowded her perception, and she heard herself saying, “Your hand is so big and strong.  Like you.” She turned it over and saw his love line was deeply etched. 

“Your love line goes on and on, it’s so thick and long.” she said as she traced it with her finger.

"Are you sure you’re talking about my love line, dear,  and not… umm, something else?” he asked her with a barely contained smirk that accentuated his dimple.

“Robert!” She giggled as he tickled her in the ribs in jest. “Your mind is in the gutter.”

Robert took his other hand and glided it slowly up and down her thigh, marveling at its velvety smoothness, wanting nothing more than to continue the journey up to her warm, wet center, to gain entrance into her secret places.  He would explore then taste her essence on his lips.  His cock throbbed with anticipation, his fingers betraying his self control as they continued their gradual climb on her thigh.  She is irresistible, he thought.

In her heightened state of perception, the ceaseless roar of the ocean filled her ears and seemed to mingle with the beating of her heart. Surely, this wasn’t real?   The thought briefly crossed her mind that maybe she was tripping so hard that the scene existed entirely in her head. That she would suddenly blink and realize this was only a figment of her overactive imagination.  But instead, as she opened her eyes, she saw Robert peering right back at her, his wet curls brushing against her cheek, his eyes full of an almost predatory and possessive quality that had not been there before, the alpha male with his intended mate, or the hunter with his prey in the sights of his gun. 

Maggie, feeling a bit predatory herself, leaned hard into him and kissed him deeply, her tongue exploring his mouth.  Their lips were locked tight, their tongues intertwined as she felt his hand moving up her leg.  She pushed on his chest until he was laying flat on his back on the ramp. 

As she straddled him, she took in the scene, the moment would forever be engraved in her memory. The vision of Robert laying back on his elbows and then supine; a cascade of golden curls falling all around him, watching her as she discarded her shirt.  He fondled her breasts, given them a good squeeze. 

 Maggie trailed kisses across his chest, stopping to tease his nipples.  When she reached his tummy she nuzzled the fuzz and began to kiss the contours of his V on either side. Painstakingly slow, enjoying every second.

Robert gave in to the sensations, running his hands through her dark, wavy hair.  He grasped a lock and gently twirled it between his fingers, sighed deeply and let out a long breath; the alpha male finally subdued and in repose.  The lioness crouched over him, suckling and nipping here and there on the trek down to his engorged member. 

He thrust his hips, urging her on, and helped her undo the heavy silver buckle while she pushed his jeans down slowly, her goal almost in sight.  As he wiggled a bit to allow for the fabric to stretch over his bulge, his cock sprang out as if in silent salute.  Good heavens, he was well endowed! And so thick...Probably 10 inches of beautiful, hard cock. She felt herself ache at the very core of her being.

She finished nibbling his inner thighs and wrapped her full lips around his sensitive tip, sucking gently as she swirled her tongue around and around.  Slowly bringing more of him into her mouth, she fondled his balls and lavished them with her attention as well.  They were big, round, and heavy.  She placed her tongue flat at his base and firmly licked the thick vein all the way up to the head. She flicked the foreskin, stretching it. Taking him in deeper and deeper each time, she held the shaft while she rubbed the tip on the inside of her cheek and repeated, until he moaned loudly.  

She loved the feel of his hardness when she pumped her hand up and down his length, once in a while squeezing him...He was hard as a rock,  glistening in the moonlight… and she liked it.

“Oh...mmmm-  little girl,” he moaned with eyes closed, “this feels so good,” he murmured as he gently thrust his hips up and down, his cock hot and responsive.  They were in sync, embroiled in the ancient mating dance that was as old as time.  

“Maggie... mmm,.. I...I can’t take too much of that,” the words tumbled out, punctuated by his heavy breathing. 

She slowed down, but did not stop, for she loved having him in her mouth, feeling in control and giving him pleasure.  Even so, she did not protest as he groped and fondled her breasts, motioning her up to meet his hungry mouth.  

While locked in a passionate kiss, Robert rolled her so Maggie was now the one lying on her back.  He hovered over her, his flexed arms on either side of her, his long hair hanging low, as he began to plant a flurry of kisses down her neck, nuzzling and nipping at her until she felt delirious with desire. 

Look at this hispanic fox, he thought as he watched her...her amber eyes half closed, lost in sensual pleasure.  He attended to each nipple, bringing them to life until they were almost as stiff as his cock.  Standing at attention, just the way he liked.  His large hands enveloped them, squeezing as his mouth sucked.  Her tummy trembled as his lips traveled downward. 

She felt his hot breath even before his velvety tongue began exploring her folds, his long fingers at her entrance.  He sucked on her clit as she bucked.  He used his arm to pin her hips down and continued his sweet torture.  She was beside herself.

Robert let her catch her breath.  He took a firm hold of his cock and rubbed it against her opening, spreading her lips with it and thrusting just an inch or two into her core.

Good God, she wasn’t going to last much longer.  Not at this rate.  She pushed against him, grinding her hips; urging him to go deeper, but he continued to tease her with shallow thrusts, in and out repeatedly… until he paused.

“Don’t stop, please, don’t...stop!” she cried, as he hovered inches above her face, his blue eyes dark and stormy with lust.  He did not respond but began to kiss her neck and rub and grind his manhood all over her pelvis and stomach.  She could feel every inch of his formidable length, rigid and ready.

That just would not do, she frowned and he smiled decadently...She dug her fingernails into his ass, trying to push herself onto him.  She needed to feel him, to feel every inch of his love, way down inside. 

“So this is what you want, huh?.” He teased her a few times by going halfway deep.  “C’mon then, little girl, push...Push me darlin..,” he breathed hot in her ear as she arched her back and felt his thickness and length completely fill her.  

She moaned, “Ahh, yes, that’s it, Robert...just like that,” as she squeezed his ass and met his deep, measured thrusts with her hips.  She brought her legs up and wrapped them around his torso, but the wooden ramp was too rough on her tailbone and she winced in pain.

“Oh Baby, are you OK?” his eyebrows furrowed with concern as he stopped. He was almost shaking with the effort and self control that it took him not to plunge into her one more time.  But the last thing he ever wanted was to hurt her in any way.  So, trembling with restraint, and breathing heavily, he paused.

Maggie opened her eyes, desperate for him to continue. “Pick me up, Robert, hold me,” she coaxed as she wrapped not only her legs but now her arms around his neck. He instinctively held the back of her thighs, hoisting her as his strong legs stood both of them up.  His rigid cock bounced as he took the few steps with Maggie in tow. Shuffling as one, they reached the wall just a few feet away.

After he had her up against it,  Maggie placed her hands on his shoulders for leverage while he tightly encircled her with his arms and entered her. No teasing, this time it was his whole length.  She experienced once again the incredible feeling of fullness and depth.

“Oh my god, Maggie, you’re so tight,” he groaned as he rocked her upward and downward with each long stroke, her body against the wall of the tower, which was shaking to their rhythm.  

She could feel the muscles in his chest and arms as he held her, and she rubbed her breasts all over him.  She threw her head back, her breasts bouncing.  He took the opportunity to suck on her exposed neck and lavish attention on her nipples, swirling and sucking until she thought she would burst.

“Squeeze me, Maggie” he panted into her ear as his pace became more urgent.  His heavy breaths fanned the flames hotter and higher inside of her. 

She felt the tremors of pleasure mounting within her, her breathing became erratic and she lost herself in an explosive orgasm that made her contract over and over again in ecstasy.

“That’s it, baby, Oh- Squeeze me ...hard,” he repeated with urgency as he sped up the pace.  She did as she was told, clamping her walls down on his fat cock with each wave of release.  Her body trembled as she rode him, his moans growing louder.

Robert was lost in the rhythm of their hips, smashing against one another, his manhood straining, pushing into her, he felt her walls constricting...he gasped and moaned finally giving in…”Oh..Maggie..Oh, I’m cumming baby.”

They were covered in sweat, their energy spent, and their desires fulfilled. For now.  Robert rested  his head on Maggie who was still wrapped like a koala bear around him. She found herself looking into Robert’s eyes, marveling at how they had been strangers a few hours ago but were now on this beach, intimately acquainted, their bodies entwined as one…

“One with cosmic energy!!” she whispered, smiling. Robert’s eyes widened, and he chuckled, “Oh yea? So you felt it too?” 

 He didn’t want to let her go, she felt so right in his arms, but he gently set her down on the ramp `and held her face tenderly in his hands, “This was a total bash, my love...and I hope it’s just the first of many…”, he paused then added “In fact, tonight might just be your lucky night my lady” he playfully curtsied and bowed as if to a queen, “for once I’m not sharing a room with my bandmate…” he trailed off, “you’re welcome to come and hang out, we could have a night-cap...” 

She did not answer immediately, She turned away and looked back in the direction they had traveled; seeing the waves incessantly breaking on the Jetties, then further down towards the Bahia Mar, where Steve was regaling his captive, spaced-out audience with tales about himself.  

“Robert, I wish I could go.  I want to,.. but I can’t.  I’m gonna be completely honest...Tonight was so special to me….But I’ve got my old man, Steve, back there” she faltered, then continued, “He and I are living together” she averted her eyes, “I can’t just disappear..I wish it were different, believe me.”Her answer took him by surprise.  

It was unsettling to Robert, who was quite used to getting his way with the ladies, to be turned down...He felt almost rejected which was not a familiar emotion, as well as possessive. He pictured her with Steve and had to quelch his jealous streak.  So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh? He thought to himself. 

“If I can still take you up on your invitation to Tugboat Annies, I‘d love to go to your show,” she said hesitantly, hoping this would prove to him she intended to see him again, Steve or no Steve.

 But the magic of the moments spent together seemed to dissipate, as Robert answered rather flippantly, “Sure thing, yea, stop by anytime. It should be a good crowd.” He started to pull away.

She caught a flash of ….something in his eyes before she replied, “Robert, listen, I am so into you, you are amazing and I want more than anything to see you again…”, she reached for his hand.  

“Maggie, you’re amazing too, but you’re in a relationship. I don’t want to get in the middle of that,” he embraced her, holding her tight and said “maybe if it was a different time, different place...but” he trailed off, took her face in his hands and kissed her deeply. 

The fire of desire rekindled deep in Maggie’s heart and her eyes welled up with tears of longing.  But Robert pulled away from their embrace.He appeared to steel himself and just like that, his jovial demeanor resurfaced, the happy-go- lucky mask was back in place, as if emotionally detaching himself from the situation. 

 “Well, I guess this is it…”  he looked into her eyes, bent down and gave her a final and quick peck on the cheek. “You better hurry back, Maggie, we wouldn’t want Steve to worry, would we?”

WIth that, he smiled, turned, and walked away towards his hotel.  She watched him slowly fading  back into the shadows, his golden mane of curls catching the first rays of dawn, his wide shoulders set.  She felt an emptiness and sudden disillusionment. She knew it wasn’t just because she was coming down from the euphoria of the acid or the afterglow of their incredible time together…it was more than that. 

As Robert’s silhouette grew smaller in the distance, she knew that she needed to see him again. She simply HAD to see him before he left for the UK on Saturday.  He was magical.  The passion and connection that she had felt with him during their brief encounter was exactly what was absent with Steve and what she deeply craved.

 When she lost all sight of Robert, her eyes swept over the skies.  The sun was beginning to rise, dispersing the quiet darkness of the night...a night she would treasure always.   She sighed wearily, turning her back to that golden sunrise as she headed back home to a man she did not truly love or even respect.  

To be continued…

[mandelene]

England is taking care of young America and Canada but comes down ill. Cue overly concerned colonies calling France to come and make him better. England is secretly a bit glad that France cared enough to come. Bonus: Stubborn and in stiff upper lip style, England keeps insisting he is fine when it is clear he is not. Bonus 2: America and Canada try to help on there own first. Bonus 3: America and Canada weigh up the pros and cons of calling France (eg. Making England angry or upset vs having a

Here it is! :) Hope you enjoy it. 

Unlikely Ally 

Word Count: 1658

“England! I’m so hungry I could eat a whole buffalo,” America whines, swinging his feet back and forth from his seat at the kitchen table. 

“I can’t keep up with your voracious appetite,” England grumbles in response as he starts serving them the chicken, potatoes, and carrots he cooked for dinner. 

Cooked is a generous term, in Canada’s opinion, but he admires England for his effort nonetheless. The food his caretaker puts in front of him is laughable compared to the mouthwatering culinary delights France once fed him, but being wasteful is rude and childish. Thus, Canada forces himself to swallow a forkful of dry, unseasoned chicken. He has offered to help cook before, but, as with most things, England always insists that he’s too little and shouldn’t worry — he has it under control. 

“Yum!” America exclaims, digging right in. He has a stomach of steel. Does he not mind England’s cooking? Or is it all just for show? “This hits the spot!” 

England manages a soft smile and picks up his glass of water with a pale, trembling hand. “I’m glad.” 

So, Canada wasn’t imagining it then…

England has been acting strange since yesterday night. It seemed he had a headache before bed, and he must have felt quite weary because he didn’t have the same amount of enthusiasm and energy he normally exudes when reading their nightly bedtime story. 

Today, there are gray bags under his eyes, his nose is faintly hyperpigmented with tones of red and pink, and he looks disheveled rather than tidy and put-together. His shirt is wrinkled, his hair is untamed, and he’s been wearing his wool coat indoors. 

Canada doesn’t think America has noticed any of this, given that he’s not exactly a very perceptive person. He wants to ask England if he’s all right, but he doesn’t want to anger him, and besides, if he was well enough to cook, then it must not be anything serious. 

Still, Canada can’t untangle the knot of worry tightening in his gut. He’s started growing closer to the man — not nearly as close as America is with him — but close enough to not want any harm to come upon him. 

So when England tucks them in that night and asks if they can postpone their bedtime story because “I have important documents I really must finish tending to,” Canada is immediately concerned that he is going to overwork himself and become more ill. 

America shrugs it all off and goes straight to sleep, but Canada stays up a bit longer. No more than twenty minutes after England has left the room, he hears the man coughing in his study. 

Canada promises himself that if things aren’t better in the morning, he’ll devise a plan of action.

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

As he feared, England worsens. The bags under his eyes darken significantly, his nose turns cherry red, and he doesn’t change out of the clothes he slept in. 

At breakfast, even America begins to realize there’s a problem.

“England? You okay?” he asks without any hesitation, giving voice to the question that’s been hanging off Canada’s tongue for two days now. 

“Yes, why wouldn’t I be?” England instantly replies in a nasally voice.

“You don’t look okay…” 

“Oh, it’s all right. I think I’ve caught a chill. Nothing to concern oneself with,” England assures, but given how downright exhausted he looks, Canada has a tough time believing him. 

“Are you sure—?

“Why don’t you boys play by the river today? It’s a beautiful day for a swim,” England interrupts America, quickly changing subjects. “Just be cautious.”  

“Yay!” America cheers, his concern already forgotten. “Hurry up and finish eating, Canada. I’ll race you there!” 

Canada frowns. If they leave to go play, then England will be all alone in the house, and is it a good idea to leave him when he’s like this? 

Unfortunately, he doesn’t have a choice in the matter because as soon as he swallows his last bite of charred eggs, America drags him outside by the arm, blissfully unaware. 

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

This is bad. Very bad. 

When they return for lunch because America complains of starvation again, they find England fast asleep in an armchair in the sitting room, looking even more ragged than before. His breathing has become louder and shallower and he’s flushed with fever. 

“What do we do?” America asks, eyes glistening with tears. “What’s wrong with him? Should we wake him up?” 

“I think it’s probably better to let him sleep,” Canada reasons. ”We should get him a blanket or something…France used to put a cold rag on my head whenever I had a fever.”  

“Okay. Let’s do that.” 

Canada fetches a quilt and covers England with it, pulling it up to the man’s shoulders. America, meanwhile, readies the damp rag and places it on England’s forehead, but the dramatic cold sensation rouses him. 

England’s emerald eyes snap open, and he immediately jolts into a more dignified, upright position in the armchair.

“What’s all this?” he demands, and Canada takes several fearful steps back. 

“We’re trying to make you better since you’re sick,” America explains, rocking on his heels. 

“What in the world are you talking about? I’m fine.” 

 “No, you’re not. You need help,” America says more firmly, standing his ground. 

“I am fine. A bit tired, but that’s all…I think…I think I’ll have a brief lie down and then I’ll prepare lunch.” 

“You shouldn’t be cooking when you’re ill,” Canada timidly adds. 

“For the last time, I’m perfectly all right! What has gotten into you both? You’re being pests,” England gripes, casting the cold rag and quilt aside before standing on his unsteady legs.

He’s absolutely hopeless. 

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

“He’s been sleeping in his room for three hours.” 

“I know,” Canada says, just as anxious. He wrings his hands and tries to think. “Hey…France should be here any day now. He’s supposed to be meeting with England about a trade negotiation soon, right? He might even be somewhere in town already. He’ll know what to do.” 

“France? But England hates France. He’d be angry at us for even talking to him.”

“I don’t think he really hates him…And we can tell one of England’s officers in town to send France over if he’s here.” 

“I don’t know…Maybe he’ll feel better after he wakes up.” 

Canada shakes his head. “He’s just getting worse.” 

America angrily rubs at his eyes, trying to hide his tears, and says, “Okay. I’ll go into town and find out if he’s here or when he’s gonna get here. You watch England.” 

“Okay.” 

While Canada is terrified by the idea of having to be alone with England when he’s clearly not in the best of moods, having to go out and speak to one of the British officers would have been even worse. 

While America goes off on the search, Canada brings a wooden chair into England’s bedroom, places it by the window, and sits down. If he bites down hard on the inside of his cheek, he’s distracted from his anxiety.

England’s breathing is labored—another worrisome sign that his health is continuing to deteriorate. Why would he be so ill? Economic or political trouble at home? Or is it just an ordinary human virus? 

Please hurry, America, he thinks. 

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

“Where is he?” 

“In here.” 

“It’s going to be all right, Amérique. Don’t cry or fret."

France comes barging into the bedroom, startling Canada but also making his heart swell with glee. 

It’s been over a year since Canada has seen France, and while he would like nothing more but to hug the man, he knows it will have to wait. There will be time to reconnect later. 

“Salut, Canada, mon cher. What has this old fool done to himself now, hmm? Let’s see…Angleterre? Mon Dieu, he has a high fever…Arthur…Wake up.” 

England stirs slightly and groans but doesn’t open his eyes. 

“Big Brother France is here now to nurse you back to health, dear. I’m going to bring cold compresses and water.” 

It’s unclear whether England registers anything that’s said to him. He merely continues heavily breathing. 

It isn’t until France starts running another wet rag down his arms and chest that he finally becomes more alert. 

“What’re you doing here?” is the first thing he mutters. 

“The little ones called for me and said you’ve been ill. You haven’t been taking care of yourself and it shows.” 

“Ughhhh.” 

“You’re fortunate that Amérique and Canada have more sense than you do. Here, take a few sips of water…You’ve caught something again, haven’t you? You’re so prone to human illnesses. Or is there something deeper going on?”

England wheezes and coughs. “Just a cold…”

“Hah—a cold. Look at yourself. It’s more than a cold. You owe the boys an apology��they’ve been worried.”

“M’sorry to have frightened them…” England tiredly looks over at Canada first and then America before offering them a strained smile. “Thank you both…” 

He then has a coughing fit, and for a split second, Canada genuinely believes that the man will stop breathing. 

France sits him up, pats his back, and passes him a glass of water again. “Finish it all, and I’ll bring tea. A spoonful of raw onion with honey will have you feeling better in no time.” 

 “God no. Please.”

“Works every time,” France promises, squeezing his shoulder. Then, he looks at the clock and glowers, “Is it that late already?”

“Are you leaving?” England whispers, and it almost sounds like he wants France to stay.

“No. Not until you’ve recovered. But I do have to go into the kitchen to cook for the boys and prepare your medicine, so go back to sleep and shout if you need me.” 

“…Don’t need you.” 

“Of course not,” France grins. He gives England’s back a final pat, helps him lie down once more, and beckons for Canada and America to follow him to the kitchen. 

Nothing seems scary anymore. 

[adarlingwrites]

Absolution

Summary:

noun: formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishment

The Capital Wasteland lauded the Lone Wanderer as a hero, a Messiah, a savior who’s willing to give her life for the Good Fight. Beyond the legends, the propaganda, and the mythification that surrounded her legacy, there is only one person who knew her bare soul. She gave him his absolution, and now he will fight for hers.

XXV

January 11, 2278.

I’m certain the entire Wasteland heard the explosion.

My partner stood still, completely silent. 

All of us watched as Paradise Falls went up in flames, the fire reflecting in Percy’s glasses.

The Abolitionists and the ex-slaves cheered and yelled, some raising their fists, the others embracing each other and sobbing. Cross carried the children on her shoulders, and the little ones laughed as Paradise burned. DeLoria sat near the Abolitionists’ caravan, speaking to a few of them while nursing a bruised rib, a confident grin on his face.

Everyone is celebrating, except for the two of us.

Percy drops to her knees and cries. Wordlessly, I took my place at her side, but I didn’t dare say anything.

She grabs and squeezes my hand, and I finally allowed myself to breathe.

“You’re free,” she whispers.

Just as quickly, she lets it go.

Now, it was time to lick our wounds.

Percy patched the injured up, including me. Her eyes never met mine, and she never said a word throughout the entire ordeal. My partner knelt in front of me, tending to the gunshot wound I had on my calf, but she doesn’t look at me.

As we said our goodbyes, we walked to where we parked the motorbike, almost two kilometers from Paradise Falls’ front gate. Percy hops on, but she doesn’t press herself against my back, opting to hold my sides.

“Let’s go home,” she finally mumbles.

I couldn’t help but overthink the entire journey home.

Was getting rid of the contract a mistake? Is Percy done with me?

Is she going to kick me out of her home? Where will I go?

What the fuck am I going to do without her?

Why isn’t she talking to me?

January 12, 2278.

I was anxious for hours.

When we arrived in Megaton, Percy didn’t even stop by Gob’s Saloon to fetch Dogmeat. She just kept marching on. Without breathing a word, I followed her home.

As soon as the door clicks shut behind us, not minding the cold, Percy strips to her underclothes as she drags her feet to the kitchenette, struggling with the buckles of her armor. The faucet was running, and I heard her shiver as she tended to herself.

Then, I hear the refrigerator door opening and closing shut. She emerges from the kitchenette with a half-empty bottle of scotch in her hand, and she sits on the sofa, taking a long swig from the bottle. Fresh bandages were on her scrapes from the fight. Percy takes off her glasses and I see it clearer now, the darkening circles under her eyes from all the things she had to deal with.

Now, she has to deal with me too.

“Percy,” I mumble, building the courage to speak to her.

“Talk to me. Please?” It was my turn to use that word.

The two centuries of being bound to my contract felt longer than the silence between my question and her response.

“Come sit,” she tells me.

I do as she says.

We sat on the opposite sides of the sofa, just a few inches between each other, but it feels like she’s worlds away.

I decided that I did not like this feeling.

“Should I still call you Charon, or should I start calling you Artyom?”

I blinked at her a few times.

Tonight, I am reminded that I wasn’t always ‘Charon’. I remember my old name, the one that my mother gave me, but that child was a different person from who I became, and who I am now. That boy is long gone. But now… Now I’m not even a man.

Tonight I am reminded that I am a monster, inside and out.

“Charon.”

She went silent after that, expression blank.

“Artyom Volkov is long dead. He died when the Enclave’s predecessors took him,” I added.

Percy puts the bottle down, and her eyes flick towards me. Wet. Wary. Afraid.

It hurts to see it.

“Charon, I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to say. I know you were involved in the Sino-American war but…” Percy starts, pressing her knees against her chest.

“Hearing it come from that slaver’s mouth… It’s still pretty jarring. It scared me.”

I gulped.

No, not fear.

I’d rather she hate me than fear me.

My eyes trailed to her shivering form and out of instinct, I stood up, my feet taking me upstairs. I come back with a blanket from her room, and I drape it around her shoulders. I intended to leave her alone after that. But before I can take my hand away, she touches it, and she pulls me back on the couch. Wrapping the blanket around herself, she settles on my lap, back pressed against my chest. Before I can stop myself, I draw her closer to me.

I’m certain she can feel my heart hammering hard on her back.

“None of the conditioning you went through is your fault. I really do believe that.”

“But?” I ask her. I felt like there was going to be a ‘but”.

“But nothing. Charon, I’m sorry for not talking to you. I’m still absorbing what the hell just happened. I was emotional, I was having irrational thoughts and… and I didn’t want to say anything that will hurt you.”

“I understand.”

The tightness in my chest dissipates little by little, and I press my face against the back of Percy’s head. I can smell smoke, gunpowder, Abraxo, and a scent that was hers alone.

“Remember what I said months ago, about how I’ll refrain from discussing your past unless you want to talk about it?” Percy asks me, looking up and leaning against my right shoulder.

I nod. I’m afraid where this conversation is leading to.

“Let’s just rip the entire band-aid off. Can I ask you some things now?”

I knew it.

“I’m afraid that what you think of me will change once you hear all of my sins,” is my response, and I look away from her. I wasn’t ready to confront that part of myself yet.

I wasn’t ready to hear what she said after that, either.

“Hey. I want to let you know, no matter what I’ll learn about your history, or what people say about you, you’re still the Charon I know. You’re still the Charon who kept my impulsive ass in check, the Charon who carries me gently whenever I’m injured or shitfaced. You’re still the Charon who stuck by me as we wiped off that slaver shithole off the map, the same Charon who broke free from centuries of being tied to that fucking piece of paper. You’ll always be my Charon.”

My eyes are starting to get wet.

Goddammit, Percy.

Without saying anything, I buried my face into her hair, and I did the best I could to hold back my tears. We stayed like that for what seemed like hours.

“Besides,” she finally breaks the silence. “I don’t think I have the heart to hear what they forced you to do either. I want to ask about who you were as Artyom Volkov.”

I scratch my head, or what skin left on it anyway. “Angel, as much as I would like to, I was sixteen when they changed my name and deemed me ready. I’m afraid there’s not much to tell. I’ve lived for more than two centuries, and sixteen years seems insignificant now.”

“Well, I’m just about to turn twenty next month, so excuse my differing perception on the flow of time,” Percy chuckles, eyeing her photograph with her father on the wall.

She turns around to face me. I lie back on the sofa, and she lies prone on top of me, chin resting on my chest. “Let’s start small. You mentioned your dad before. Tell me about him.”

I let myself smile a little. Propping my head against one arm, I’m ready to tell her everything I can remember.

“His name’s Ilya. I can’t quite remember his face, but he was big. Like a yao guai.”

Percy giggles.

“Yeah, definitely like you. Tell me more about him. What was he like?”

“He made me feel safe. During the winter he’ll take his ushanka out of the attic and tell me about the place he came from. I remember wanting to wear his hat. He said that one day I’d grow into it, but he was killed before that could happen,” I tell Percy, and she gives me a sympathetic look.

Not pity again. I need to change the subject. “We spent Saturdays fishing. I barely saw him during the weekdays.”

“Huh. What did he do?”

“I can’t remember, but on Sundays, my father used to bring people from work in the house, and they’d sit and talk for hours. I couldn’t comprehend what they were discussing together.”

“What did they talk about?” Percy asks.

“I’m not sure. Once, I asked him what the meetings are about, and he told me that they’re talking about how they can be paid better at work, so he can bring home more food for us.”

Percy crawls a little closer. “Sounds like he was in a labor union.”

“A what?”

“A labor union. I don’t know when unions first showed up, but history class from the vault taught me a little about the ones from the era before the Great War. Resources became scarce, so did wages. People worked long hours for very little pay. Workers banded together to demand better benefits from their employers. Mr. Brotch told us that what the laborers did was fair, and I think I agree,” Percy explains, a stray lock of hair on her forehead.

I brushed it off gingerly, my fingers brushing against her skin. She leans into my touch.

“In hindsight, it was probably their meetings that led to them being accused as Reds,” she adds.

I paused, pondering on the information Percy shared with me.

“You know, come to think of it, he always came home late and tired. My mother was always worried about him.”

At the mention of the word mother, Percy’s eyes flick to mine. There was a certain kind of sadness in them. I felt a twinge in my chest.

“What was your mother like, Charon? What was it like to have a mom?”

“Her name’s Annika. She was gentle to me. Protective too. Scolded the kids who made fun of my difficulties in reading. Aside from singing me lullabies, she used to make me the thinnest pancakes. She called them blins. Having a mother who looked after me was nice. I felt cared for.”

“That… that sounds amazing.”

My breath hitches at my throat.

“I loved her very much. I loved both of them very much.”

Percy strokes my arm, hand soft against my rough skin and hardened muscles. “Was there anyone else in your family? Like a sibling?”

“I didn’t have brothers or sisters, but I did have an aunt. Katya. She was my father’s younger sister.”

“What do you remember about her?”

“The last time I saw her was to visit her during her birthday, Her hair was red too. I didn’t know what happened to her after I was taken away.”

“And what was Aunt Katya like?”

“Loud. Chatty. She talked my ear off for hours, though there were some things she said that I didn’t understand a child, and can’t remember now. I loved her too.”

“I see,” my partner replies, yawning and stretching.

Then, Percy asks me a question that made me hold my breath.

“Was there anyone else you loved aside from family, Charon?”

You.

Wait. Stop. Damn, and I almost said it out loud.

I care for Percy. I really do. But is it love?

Fuck, I’m still figuring it out.

“The indoctrination didn’t leave much room for that. We were actively discouraged from forming any attachments to anyone except our employers,” I tell her instead.

I felt Percy sag against me. She rests her cheek against my chest.

“I’m sorry.”

“There was someone I cared for despite the conditioning, though,” I tell her.

“Who?”

“Her name was Magwayen. I called her Mag, I couldn’t remember her name before she was inducted. When I was brought to the facility as a child, she cared for me.”

Percy holds my gaze, silently asking me to continue.

“I think she was about your age when I met her. I was a lot shorter than her back then. By the time I was inducted, she was our medic. I was their demolition guy.”

Thinking about Mag, my brain started to itch again.

“Now that I’ve thought about it, you two are similar.”

Head perking up, Percy gives me a curious look. “Oh? Aside from our age and our background in medicine, what else did we share?”

“She was Asian too, I think. Had dark hair like yours, but it was longer. You both had strong principles. She managed to fake being subservient to survive. I was supposed to report her for that, but she was kind. It became our secret.”

Percy gives me a soft smile. “I have a feeling Mag and I would’ve gotten along.”

I couldn’t help but smirk. “Yeah. And you were both short as hell.”

With a laugh, Percy gives my chest a playful shove. “Making fun of me now? Oh Charon, how could you?” she asks, her voice dripping with mock hurt.

“Now that the contract’s gone, I can tease you without the fear of you selling it.”

“As if my conscience is capable of letting me do that,” she replies, now with genuine hurt. Shit.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that.”

Percy blinks at me.

“I do not want to admit it, but you selling my contract became one of my worst fears. I didn’t expect you to free me from it.”

To my surprise, this angel leans forward and kisses me at my temple, where I had pointed a gun at a few hours ago.

“I didn’t free you from it. I just helped you. You did that yourself, big guy. I’m proud of you.”

I fell asleep smiling.

??? ??, ????.

I feel an unwelcome weight above me.

When I opened my eyes, I wasn’t looking into eyes with the color of Pre-War chocolate anymore. They’re green, reminding me of the Wasteland’s radioactive sky.

Recoiling in horror, I blurted her name.

“Vanth.”

She wraps her hands around my neck, and I was in hell all over again.

“Charon.”

“Vanth, no. Stop! Get the fuck off me,” I growl at her. “Percy, where are you?”

“She can’t save you now.”

In the corner of my eye, I see Percy, her skull and brains strewn on the metal floor.

No...

Powerless, I just let it fucking happen.

All of a sudden, I can hear Percy’s voice.

“Charon, wake up,” Percy whispers with urgency, gently shaking me awake.

I saw her face, and crushed her against my chest.

“Nightmare?”

I nod.

“Hey, who’s Vanth?”

[eve-mega-theory]

My theory on Eve’s MVs, from Sister to Raison D’etre

People have asked, and since no one else has yet (and since I’ve always wanted to do it), I’ve went and put together a theory that connects all of Eve’s MVs into a single large narrative about the cycle of depression. Since I go over every song in-depth, and each song is filled with detail and complexity, it’s long. I actually had to skip over a lot of little details making this, because if I did the length would just get out of hand. Also keep in mind that I’m not assuming my theory to be the “one true meaning.” I just took a lot of personal meaning from this series, and its portrayal of depression and how to overcome it has helped me immensely. I want to do these videos, which are clearly labors of love, some justice.

*I’m going to put time stamps for the other songs to make things easier to follow. It's not required, but I recommend that you rewatch the previous songs as you read.

**Each of the early videos have a dominant color to them, which is often used in later MVs to subtly reference them, which I’ve listed next to the title.

Sister (Red):

The first Eve MV released was Demon Dance Tokyo, but I believe the 1st, and arguably most important video in the timeline is Sister. The MC suffers from severe depression throughout the series, and this is where it originated from. His sister died in an accident while he was young, and he was overcome with guilt that he was so distant from her while she was alive. He felt like this happened because he was rotten to the core, with him declaring that even if he went back in time, he still would've made the same mistakes, because that's just the kind of person he is. He ends up repressing those memories to deal with the guilt, and he becomes distant from people. The video's expressed entirely through notebook paper and paper mache because as a child, the MC was fond of drawing and sketching, and used this to cope with these difficult times and express himself.

Chocolate Town (Brown):

This song’s pretty easy to miss, as it’s under the account of the artist “Sou,” who did many collaborations with Eve in the past. It’s sung by Sou, but written by Eve, and it shares too many similarities with his city-scape series to be ignored. It fits perfectly in between “Sister” and “Demon Dance Tokyo.” There’s a large time skip between the two songs, in which the MC goes from grief-stricken child to selfish teenager, and this song fills in that gap, making for a more seamless transition. His appearance here is more similar to that of “Sister” (0:15), as he tries to live the way he used to. The world is no longer a rose-tinted explosion of color, but a uniform chocolate brown, more sickening and suffocating than sweet (0:51). He doesn’t experience new things anymore, he just stays in his comfort zone and drowns himself in the things he knows, as he’s locked in place by a vague apprehension that eats away at him (0:21). He’s suppressed the memory of his sister, but the guilt remains. That guilt leaves him unable to connect with people the way he used to, out of fear of hurting or being hurt. The ‘book of spells’ from Nonsense Literature is referenced, as the MC keeps the deeper parts of his heart locked away (1:30). As he grows distant, his friends do the same (“Mason does seem quite superstitious,” which you could take to mean the MC’s real name is Mason) [0:32].  He tries to just ignore it and go with the flow (0:36), but it’s not enough. The tries to drown himself in desire to ignore the pain he’s feeling (1:10). Deep down he knows it’s wrong, but the guilt he feels keeps him trapped (1:15). 

In the second half of the song, it’s revealed that after Ano Ko Secret, the MC successfully worked up the courage to talk to the blue haired girl, and a friendship formed (2:00). As shown in later MVs, the two would play on the playground together, and we see here that even during this difficult time, the MC felt complete when he was with her. Even so, here she’s obscured in chocolate, showing that the MC is unable to see outside his own problems. Because of his selfishness, he’s unable to connect and they grow apart (2:08). Losing her hurts him, as he lost the only real friend he had left, so all that’s left to him is his suffocating city of chocolate (2:30). He tries to just keep enjoying his little comforts and joys (2:45), but it’s not enough as his “heart is destitute” (3:08). His pain and guilt continues to eat away at him from the inside. Being alone isn’t enough for him, and he won’t let himself truly connect with other people. Combine that with his focus on simple pleasures, and it’s no surprise that he turns to being on top of the ‘social heirarchy’ as a teenager in “Demon Dance Tokyo.” 

Demon Dance Tokyo (Green):

This song depicts 3 people touring around Tokyo, dressed in the finest clothes and dining on the finest food. In actuality, this city is in the MC's head, and is a metaphorical manifestation of his psyche. That's the style and layout of this series, they all take place in the MC's head, and almost all are in a city that changes from song to song to reflect his mental state. In this case, he sees this touristy, trendy world because he's like a desperate tourist, trying to run away from his problems by flying off somewhere else and drowning in the superficial; food, parties, clothes, women, etc. Since he repressed his guilt over his sister's death, this is how he chases happiness; by running away from that guilt and chasing materialistic fulfillment. Relationships to him are the same way. He just chases after people who look trendy and beautiful to him, and puts on a fake mask to appear cool. That greed is personified by his crocodile form dining on the women and the massive Godzilla towering over the city. He wants to be above everyone. At 2:40 of that song, his undercurrent of loneliness takes over, as it often does, because those kinds of relationships never last. At 2:57, that loneliness overcomes him, making him desperate. He's still selfish and bad at relationships, but he swears to one girl that he'll be her everything on matter what. This leads into the next song....

Nonsense Literature (Black):

This is where things really get bad for the MC. Out of desperate loneliness, he tries to get into a serious relationship with this girl (maybe one of the girls from the last song), but he doesn’t really know how to connect with people anymore, putting thick mental walls between them. Despite regularly meeting with the girl, he doesn't really know her at all,which is why she has a cone on her head throughout the video. As a result, their relationship is no more than "becoming idiots, dancing on air," so it doesn't take long for them to start fighting and disagreeing, at 1:16. Since he refuses to open up to her, he starts to feel trapped and bitter around her, becoming paranoid at 1:29, and eventually believing she's taking advantage of him and lying to him, that she doesn't understand him at all, that he doesn't even understand himself, that he might be going a bit crazy, but they keep hanging out, during 1:42. At 2:00, he can't take it anymore. "I lost my composure when you laughed at me in scorn;" either he was genuinely betrayed by her or he just misunderstood. Either way, that betrayal severely damages him, and depression takes over hard. While you see many tiny dancing demons throughout these MVs, the main face of his depression is the mysterious cloaked One-Eyed Man. He essentially acts as the devil on his shoulder, feeding him all the worst ideas, telling him to protect only himself, morality be damned, and believing that he's doing it for his sake, that he's protecting him. In this case, he uses this moment of weakness after his betrayal to take control of the MC. He rips his guts out, opens up his head, and stuffs it with books. It’s the same as whispering into his ear "you don't need people, they'll only hurt you. You don’t need this world, it will only hurt you. I’m all you need. Use this sharpened blade of words to ensure no one will ever do this to you again." The MC, smiling, gratefully accepts. He cuts ties with that girl, as well as the rest of the world. He's become a monster: safe, but empty.

Dramaturgy (Light Blue):

This one is basically "depression the song." This time the world is like a stage play, with the MC being an actor. After shutting himself out from the world, he's lonelier than ever before, his self esteem skyrocketed down, and his life has come to a screeching halt. He no longer even feels human. Every day is a struggle just to keep on living. By making the whole world into the enemy, he's incapable of revealing any of himself to them, disassociating to the point that he might as well be just an actor wearing a mask. He's trapped even within the safety of his own mind. If you act only how everyone wants you to act all the time, eventually you feel like there are actual physical walls all around you. It's exhausting to keep up, and you start to forget who you are. He’s also developed an inferiority complex, and a fear of other people. He just doesn’t want to be betrayed again. At 2:13, he wants to reach a climax where he breaks out of these walls around him, but he can't do it, because he NEEDS them, they’re there to protect him. The One-Eyed Man makes sure he never forgets this. At 3:28, we get a kaleidoscope zoom-in to the MC's psyche, which stops at a floating white cube. These cubes contain him at his deepest level, his fundamental perception of himself. His hopelessness, and the One-Eyed Man's words have reached to his very core and torn him apart at the deepest level. At 3:48, he's lost himself. He likely becomes a shut-in at this point as well, only doing the most basic necessities and heading straight to his room when he gets the chance.

As You Like It (Yellow):

You might’ve noticed that although yellow’s the most prevalent, this MV has plenty more color to offer. It's probably the most colorful so far even. Not only that, the pacing's way faster, the music more upbeat. Why would this come immediately after the most depressing and hopeless song yet? That's because this song is in the MC's imagination, like a daydream. While he's lost almost all hope, trapped in his own head and unable to move forward, he's still able to cling to hope by escaping reality into this fantasy. In this escapist world, he's cooler, a popular musical artist, singing his heart out to a big crowd. And he's able to conquer his fears, deal with his stresses, and connect with a girl the way he wishes he could. After all, while he doesn’t let himself connect with others out of fear, whether he realizes it or not,he just wants to be loved and understood. So he makes up this ideal fantasy girl with perfect fashion taste (0:03), who can do that for him. In the song, he represses his true self in the form of the Glove-Mask Man so that he can deal with life’s stresses (which hit him one after the other at 0:35, and are symbolized by the rocket taking off at 0:22), and he disassociates, literally splitting into two people. He starts to struggle against him (1:33) so that his honest self can reach her, and he finally pulls it off at the end, her responding with a wholehearted smile (3:26). A perfect conclusion. Thing is, his ideal girl is a reflection of reality as well. The playground at 0:28, where he wishes he could go back to his childhood memories, partly shows that he’s letting his past drag him down, but he also describes talking with this girl in memories of old, because he had a real-life friend when he was young that he would talk with at a similar playground. She is his goal in these dreams, because he never forgot those times they had together, and he has subconsciously idealized her as a result. On a sadder note, this fantasy also confirms that he’s become a shut-in in reality, as we see him lock himself away in his room (1:02). That’s what he wishes he could escape from. Regardless of the truth behind the scenes, this dream of his gives him hope that he’ll get through this difficult time.

Outsider:

Now we leave the escapism and return to the MC’s mind he’s trapped in. All the past colors come into play here, as we see that the only color in his world comes from these past scars and experiences. He can’t see anything else, he’s painted by them. The test tubes everywhere (0:59) show that he's genuinely trying to deal with his pain by organizing and compartmentalizing it, and by grasping onto hope with his fantasy, he's able to get by. But he's not at all perfect at it, with his little demon-monsters knocking over test-tubes and purposely painting each other. The pipes everywhere all lead to his brain, with each of them pumping these experiences and memories into him. It’s like they’re in his blood stream, a part of him. These pipes also nourish past monsters, like the Godzilla monster depicting his narcissism. He’s come to hate these less desirable parts of himself, so at 1:30 he tries to just break the tubes to sever that part of him, but that just breaks the overall flow, flooding his brain with black, bringing him back to square one. You can’t just get angry at yourself and remove all your flaws. It takes immense time and dedication. This accidental overflow causes some of the monsters to transform into even worse forms. At 3:02 he's sitting next to an especially nasty-looking demon, shaded black and red. This demon is a reminder that his refusal to confront his guilt toward his sister is at the heart of all of this. He keeps struggling with himself, hating himself, and he won’t tackle the fundamental problems. But at least he’s fighting. The last lyric "because this tiny bit of courage will ignite the fire in my heart," shows that just by being aware of the struggle, he's trying to change and improve, he's not giving up.

Tokyo Ghetto:

This song takes place after a lot of time has passed. His cityscape is more dilapidated and volatile. Now, instead of the One-Eyed Man, the prime demon in control is the blue robot with the teeth mask. The robot symbolizes anxiety, a primal, damn near uncontrollable feeling which desires to keep him here by any means. He’s always watching, and he’s not afraid to get physical against the MC when push comes to shove. The shady-looking people in the town are extensions of that anxiety, individual worries and fears. This is why the town is more colorful, yet somehow more harsh and uninviting. All this time has allowed the anxiety to get in his head, to drive his imagination wild and fill his heart with more and more worries. He wants to believe these worries are on his side, but they just want the easiest path(1:41), they don’t give a damn about his wishes. The MC makes meager attempts to escape from the hell of his own mind, always being swiftly pulled back into a never-ending cycle (0:40). After a long while of this, he meets a girl who he sees much of himself in, and he reaches out to someone for the first time in a long while, in the hopes of maybe being saved by her (1:02). Problem is, she acts the same way he used to back in Tokyo Dance, and he winds up getting a taste of his own medicine. Every time he tries to get close to her, she just pushes him away. Like him, she’s actually hiding pain from the past too; she just refuses to show it (2:01, “it was sentimental, though it wasn’t like you at all) . At 2:40, we get a full glimpse into her mind. Many pairs of her shoes are bound together all around her, symbolizing that day after day she ties herself down, and the holy statue behind her symbolizes her holier-than-thou attitude. At 2:55, she happily bites into one of those shoes, drawing her own blood. She hasn’t yet learned that her self-destructive lifestyle isn’t the right way to go. At 2:59, we see their two psyches summed up perfectly. The girl, shrouded in darkness, putting up a cool front and slowly losing herself, standing confidently all the while. The MC, aware that he’s in a bad place, but desperately groveling, searching for any kind of escape at all. Without being able to find solace in the girl, shadows grow, the town floods, monsters come out of the sewers, the Blue Robot gathers his power (2:55). The MC’s anxiety is bubbling up as his desperation to find an escape increases. He’s pinned down by the water (symbolizing stress and struggle to change), and with the girl out of his reach, merely electing to watch him crumble, the Blue Robot is free to strike with all his might, revealing his true, monstrous form (3:48). The MC, in his weakened state, is torn to bits, reduced to trash (4:01). He’s back to square one, and the cycle begins again. He remains trapped in the Tokyo Ghetto.

Ambivalent:

After being trapped in that cycle for so long, the MC decides that he needs to do some serious soul searching. He looks deep into his subconscious, deeper than any song that’s come before. He peers all the way into his basic, fundamental outlook on life, to try to get to the heart of the problem. Keep in mind that he’s not trying to commit to any real action; he’s just introspecting, trying to take a look at his core values. This world is split in two sectors: the safe pink room, where his heart and memories lie, and the planet, which symbolizes change and reality, or rather his perception of it. He’s been resting in the pink room, stagnant, for so long that everything is overgrown, and his heart is weak, without motivation. Even resting is exhausting for him, something he’s only able to do thanks to his yellow wheelchair representing his hopes (As You Like It). The MC wants to understand why he can’t venture out onto that planet. Every time he tries, it’s a labyrinth of endless signs all telling him to stop and turn back. The plants themselves attack and hurt him. It’s a volatile world full of unknowns and hostiles. The source of this hostility is the disagreement between him and the cat, who's with him at all times here (1:26). Believe it or not, this cat is the One-Eyed Man’s true form. He doesn’t appear mysterious or “all-seeing” because the MC is self-aware of the One-Eyed Man’s influence, and he’s just thinking in the safety of his room; the One-Eyed Man has no power without perceived danger. He’s a cat because he represents the primal part of us from long before humanity developed complicated cognitive ability and intelligence. He only cares about the MC's safety and desires, and doesn’t give a damn about anything or anyone else. He was always watching, acting as the hidden voice behind every decision. When the MC wanted to run away from the pain of his sister's death (Sister), he helped him. When the MC desired safety from the world above all else (Nonsense Literature), he granted it to him. When he struggled with depression (Dramaturgy), deep down that desire never actually left. When that desire became the core of his being, the cat even created the Blue Robot as a sort of "hired muscle" to keep the MC in check for his own good. Despite the awfulness of the One-Eyed Man's actions, he’s just granting the MC's wishes. He genuinely cares about the MC and wants what’s best for him; that’s why he’s so cute and small. But the MC has been blaming him for all of his problems, without understanding his own responsibility in the matter, leaving them at an impasse (1:26). They both come to understand their disagreement with the words: “when I was a kid, I picture myself as a main protagonist in this world. I started to get embarrassed so I turned my eyes away.” (1:36). He's finally come to accept and understand his share of the blame, rather than just blaming the cat. His hair being green here could also show that he never truly grew past his selfishness after all this time. He begins to recall all the things he’s taken for granted and ignored in his life, and he realizes he wants to protect them (1:48). He doesn’t want to just be selfish, he wants to live for their sakes and be useful to them. Now that they’re talking on even terms, the cat can understand his desire for selflessness and gives him a match. They've agreed to stop letting memories of fear and pain that have long since passed guide their every move, so they burn them away (2:00). Those times won’t disappear, but it doesn’t mean they can’t move beyond them. The cat now realizes he was being overprotective, and that the MC can make his own decisions, so he decides to try and get out of his way (2:15). The MC's world is no longer centered around his own desire; he can see the 'bigger picture' (2:24). But while the cat is taking a more reserved role in his life, he didn't completely disappear (2:55). After all, desire is what gives our lives meaning. The difference is that the two are now a pair bringing out the best in one another, a balanced mix of selflessness and desire. Now that they’re in agreement, a world of possibilities is open to them, and the MC is ready to reach out and grab them, and begin his life again (3:01).

Last Dance:

The MC has now returned to the outer layers of his mind, and he wants to turn his newfound paradigm shift into action. Due to this shift, the city’s layout has gotten more realistic, lively, elegant, and inviting, far closer to the real world. He and his demons are hiding from it all at the center of his mind, a small, comfy room resting above a black center (2:32). This is to show that the MC is aware that the real world wasn't the problem; his own outlook was. His nails are being painted red by a demon to show how long he’s been letting these memories paint him without fighting back (0:22). He doesn’t blame them though, he understands himself and how this all came to be, so he gives one of his demons a hug (0:25). The room is more organized and homey to reflect his understanding. But he sees how small his world has been, and he wants to try and get out. He’s decided what he wants to do, but still easily comes apart when trying to move (0:37). He's put back together, revived by the support of the One-Eyed Man, who's lost his overbearing, omnipresent appearance, and learned to keep his dark side more under control (0:41). It's possible he's even taken on 3 different forms simultaneously, to reflect how both he and the MC now understand his multifaceted nature (0:47, 1:00, and 1:03). So the MC is spiritually strong, but he still unravels in the face of anxiety. At 0:33, he says “with different values, that guy who I hate put on a ridiculous sneer," referring to the Blue Robot, his main enemy. Even though the One-Eyed Man created the Blue Robot, it was never in his control. Anxiety doesn't think for itself; it's a raw, unfiltered emotion that carries out its objective long after its needed. The MC can't beat it alone, even with the One-Eyed Man's help. He realizes he absolutely needs the support of others if he’s going to move forward, and he needs a goal to get him moving in the short-term. He recalls the thing that’s given him hope for all this time, the person who was at the center of all his hopes for tomorrow, and the person he wants to protect most (1:52). It was a girl who spent time with him back when his sister first died. He was in a dark place and full of guilt, and that girl’s kindness gave him hope. But he drifted apart from her due to feeling guilty that he didn’t deserve to be around someone like her, that he would only get in her way. But he always idealized her, and those memories kept him going long after they stopped meeting. The elegant woman dancing is his perception of that memory (1:52). She’s also the girl from As You Like It, but that version of her was only a fantasy he himself didn’t even realize was based on her. She’s here because he only now consciously realized this, and he wants to reach out to her again and start over, without being selfish or afraid. Now fully motivated, he vows to be like “the melancholic patients who chose tomorrow,” and venture out into the world in spite of fear (2:12). He’s taking a leap of faith, venturing on a thin balance beam along with all his demons (3:02-3:32). Obviously they won’t really leave, since they’re a part of his psyche now. He has to understand and accept them, thereby rendering them harmless, or at least manageable. He reaches the girl (3:36), but before this point, he realized something about her. Notice that her hair is painted a light blue, the color of Dramaturgy? This means that throughout the song, upon examining his memories of her more closely, he realizes that she wasn’t as perfect as he was choosing to remember her. In reality, she was suffering too, and the reason they drifted apart so easily was because they both felt undeserving of each other. Deep down a part of him always knew, but when he gets a taste of the blue paint, (2:14) it's the first time he consciously considers the idea. When she tears off her hair and he gently caresses it, he accepts that her pain was real (3:15). He's finally taken the physical journey out of his mind, and he gives her a gentle, honest smile; a far cry from his actions in Demon Dance Tokyo (3:35). At 3:58, the One-Eyed Man gives the MC a book from Nonsense Literature, this time as an honest offering. The One-Eyed Man will help him through this new chapter as a partner, rather than a controlling force.

We’re Still Underground (Orange):

Now it’s time for the grand finale, We’re Still Underground, in which everything finally comes together in the most stunning video so far. This video marks the first time the MC has ever accepted the real physical world in the entire series. After Last Dance, he’s finally venturing outside of his room and moving forward again. As a result, this video is the real world mixed together with his mind. It’s almost like a fantasy world, filled with weird and unknown things. After all, in Last Dance he said “I will not understand everything right now,” but he’s still going to move forward. The camera shows reality, then pans down to the MC’s perception of things. His mind is now jaw-droppingly beautiful and full of color and life. The crows from Tokyo Ghetto are now beautiful pink birds, and big flying ‘monsters’ personify his newfound hope and optimism (0:14). The world is filled with vegetation and vines, similar to the blue planet from Ambivalent. Again, this is all new and uncertain to him, so it’s covered with the same vegetation. At 0:20, we see that much of the city is flooded, calling back to the water from Tokyo Ghetto. He’s moving forward, but much of the world is closed off to him due to that stress and worry. At 0:28, cloth being hung like laundry symbolizes how the MC is more collected and calm than before. We zoom into the house he’s spent so much time in, and it’s dark, overcrowded, and filled with masks symbolizing his mental journey (0:35). As an added bonus, his hair is orange, which is the color we’d often see in Outsider when all the colors were mixed together. He finally ventures out to fulfill a basic task, buying from a gas station, but even that proves to be a little too much. The people around him are shifty looking like in Tokyo Ghetto, and eventually a big octopus busts in and forces him to leave and settle for a vending machine (0:40). Both in the gas station and vending machine, you see the eye from the One-Eyed Man marking various items and signs, symbolizing that he’s using desire for the end goal and new things drive him forward (0:41, 0:43, and 0:46). The lyrics here are him wondering if he’s good enough for the girl he’s going to try and meet again, and deciding that if she’s hurting so much, then he needs to help her through it. Meanwhile, we finally learn who this girl he looks up to actually is. She looks very different from any version the MC had in his mind, dressing quite plain and modest, and having both blue hair and blue eyes, perhaps to symbolize her Dramaturgy-type depression. We learn that that song sums her up pretty well, but her depression still takes a somewhat different form from the MC. She’s not afraid to go out, but the life she’s living is completely dictated by other people. She’s afraid to do anything for herself. This is why she receives texts from the One-Eyed Man, and her world looks so realistic, dark, and rainy. She believes this is the only possible road for her, that THIS is reality. She’s like the opposite of the MC; she’s TOO selfless, and her One-Eyed Man, her desires, have taken on the form of everyone around her, as it believes that’s the safest route for her. She herself is empty. At 0:53, the playground is fenced off; no playtime allowed, your childhood doesn’t matter, your memories don’t matter, those times you played with the MC as kids (As You Like It) don’t matter. At 0:54, she sits in her house, dejected, the zombie poster behind her a good description for her mental state, and there’s a constant hue of water all around her. She always feels like she’s drowning, anxious that something about this isn’t right, that she’s about to lose herself. Meanwhile, MC is biking over to meet her (0:59), but they both end up falling into water (1:06), drowning in anxiety right at the moment before they both meet. Once they meet, they each see an answer in each other, a person to rely on in this difficult stage of their life. The two of them are then seen running toward a sort of junkyard of gold (1:26). Now that they see hope in one another, they are able to catch a glimpse of all the good things in life that they had taken for granted, ignored, treated as trash. Upon seeing it, they decide they want to move forward, and bite into an apple, symbolizing rebirth like Adam and Eve. They’re accepting this new chapter, and all the sin and desire and change that comes with it. For a moment, at 1:40, the girl sees the world the way MC does, with the beautiful monsters and rising bubbles everywhere. She’s inspired by his hope, and realizes she’s “still underground;” something needs to change.

At 1:44, the camera pans underground to show us a web of complex piping and overgrowth. It’s meant to call back to Outsider, and I think to show that while he’s moving on and changing, he still has an undercurrent of guilt with him. At 1:49, we see the girl surrounded by posters of people. They all have one eye; she doesn’t just feel oppressed and subservient to her loved ones, she also feels like she must be obedient to society’s whims as well. The lyrics here are calling back to everything that the MC went through in the past, especially Tokyo Ghetto at 1:55, where he remembers that giving up made him feel at ease, and that he feels helpless because of it. But his hopes and dreams (2:06) kept him believing in tomorrow. We see more shots of the duality between the two of them. At 2:15 we see the girl skateboarding on a bright green skateboard, rather out of place and spontaneous, hinting that she’s playing at embracing her individuality and optimism again. (Also, at 2:20 we see a poster of an apple with the One-Eye on it. This could further imply that rebirth and upheaval are what she truly desires deep down). The line at 2:22 “I’m not saying this as a joke, but everyone mocked me,” could imply that either his selfish, fake self of old would never be listened to by others, or that the demon residents of his mind aren’t going to help him (again calling back to Tokyo Ghetto). At 2:21, both characters’ strong desires for change finally manifest in a Matrix-style “red pill, blue pill” choice. They now have to take a true leap of faith, and accept that their lives are going to change irreversibly from this point on. We don’t see them choose, but the line “It’s goodbye to this town,” speaks for itself. At 2:26, we get a badass shot of the pair as two halves of the same whole, perfectly in agreement on what must be done. They’ll support each other through what happens next. At 2:28 we see a massive protest from the less agreeable parts of his mind, likely people from Tokyo Ghetto and on the far left the glove man from As You Like It. The billboards say “No,” and “Give Up,” and some have the One-Eye on them, perhaps a plea for the One-Eyed Man to return to their side. At 2:31, the MC and girl are seen spraying graffiti in direct rebellion to everyone, perhaps a last burst of courage before making the big choice. At 2:35 we see the MC abandon his bike in a carnival, perhaps a last goodbye to his naive childhood and an acceptance of adulthood. At 2:36 we see the girl with an umbrella in the rain, which is meant to further connect her to As You Like It. At 2:45, the pair has made their choice, and the town begins its massive upheaval. At 2:51, the two are back in the playground they used to play at, swinging way up in a leap of faith, looking toward the skies. At 3:00, “there will be no rerun,” this is the moment. At 3:08, he vows not to avert his eyes anymore, to accept whatever life throws at him without running away. At 3:13, the pair move up toward the future, toward the skies. The line at 3:18 is extremely important, as the MC directly calls back to when the two were young at the playground. He remembers how the guilt they both felt kept them from relying on one another, and while he treasures the friendship they had, he wants to make sure they never grow apart like that again. 3:23 is them coming to fully understand where they went wrong at that playground, and where they went wrong after they drifted apart. The MC’s mind is filled with symbolism; books from Nonsense Literature, birds for his greed and overactive mind, board game pieces for his attempts to distract himself and shun other people, every-day appliances for his focus on basic survival rather than true living, the list goes on. The girl, however, is completely empty, just an empty husk with no will of her own. They vow that while they’ll always be imperfect, they never want to return to this state of being. They cast aside these fake, improper forms they’ve made for themselves. At 3:36, we get to see VCR tape footage, a clear sign that this is in the past, showing sketches the two shared at that playground as kids. This calls directly back to Sister’s paper notebook style. Sketching was how the MC expressed himself as a kid, so it was deeply personal for him, and it looks like for the girl too. The images of a monster boy and a magical girl with horns come across as cries for help and a desire to escape, but neither of them realized the other’s suffering. This was where it all began, at a time where neither of them really understood what was happening to them; they were just kids. The VCR tape then shuts off, we see flashes of the town, and a messy drawing of the MC saying “goodbye.” He’s finally made peace with himself, he accepts the mistakes he made, he’s saying goodbye to that naive child that was behind every decision of his, and moving on. At 3:51, the two are played in reverse, undoing the damage they’ve been causing to themselves. This is a goodbye to their self-destructive tendencies. The line “wait for the 1, 2 signal,” directly calls back to As You Like It, and how once they get the ball rolling, things are going to happen really damn fast, and they need to be ready for it. 4:03 is the epic climax, where the Blue Robot, anxiety, once again appears in a last-ditch effort to stop the two. He’s not in control anymore, and he knows this, so he reveals his true form: a massive, feral, insane, uncontrolled mess of fear that wrecks havoc all across the city, almost like it’s willing to destroy the whole thing if it has to. The two are prepared, and together they run with everything they’ve got. At 4:14, we see masses of planes dropping hellfire on the beast in an attempt to quell it. Perhaps this is the One-Eyed Man, dropping in one last bit of support for the two. Maybe it’s a show that the pair now has more control over their minds, and are finally able to fight back against the entities that used to control them. Whichever it is, it’s enough to save them, and at 4:21 the sun rises, the two safe and sound overlooking the now destroyed city. At 4:23, the cube from Dramaturgy, their core, is perfectly fine, showing that they’ll get through this massive upheaval intact. At 4:25, we see that amidst the destruction, a massive tree has sprouted up, symbolizing rebirth. Perhaps this tree was able to sprout up from the piping underneath, meaning that the two making peace with themselves allowed their pasts to finally stop clogging up their brains. Finally, the video rewinds to before their upheaval, and we see the MC’s room, this time in the real world, no strings attached. We’ve finally been shown the real life setting for the vast majority of the MVs. Not long after, the MC pukes up darkness, which is a little nod to the fact that while the world itself wasn’t technically real, the pain and struggle he was going through certainly was.

This World To You:

This song is like the epilogue of the MC’s journey. He’s overcome his inner cycle which has kept him trapped for all this time, learned to empathize and think things through (2:07), and he’s now able to confront the feelings that were at the core of this struggle all along: his guilt toward his sister. During a beautiful purple sunset, he’s bicycling through the vivid new world open to him, grieving for her and accepting that “her tomorrow’s never coming” (0:48). This acceptance hurts him (0:31), and at first it even feels like he’d rather things just remain the way they are, (0:37) but it’s the only way he can learn from his mistakes and become someone she’d be proud of. He thinks from the newly found perspective he has, and seeing things more objectively, more selflessly, he wonders how similar her life was to his (1:11). He’s seeing his sister not as a vague, hazy image built up in his head made up of his worries, anxieties, and guilt, but as a normal person, with their own worries, feelings, problems, and dreams. By empathizing with his sister, coming to terms with the improper image of her he built up in his head, he’s able to move on, and empathize with other people in a similar way. By doing this, he no longer has reason to be afraid of the world out there, and he can start to reach other people’s hearts, learning from the mistakes he made in the past. Instead of wallowing in remorse over his sister, he can be someone she’d be proud of, and help other people who are hurting in the way he couldn’t with her. This spurs him on, and although the fact that she died so early is a fact he’ll always carry with him (1:52), he’s found a hope for tomorrow he’s needed all his life (2:14). However, he also accepts that death and pain is always a possibility (2:20), and that things won’t always go his way. But instead of fall into despair, he’s able to believe that things will get better, and that he has the power to make them better, reflected in the beautiful vista filled with sea creatures swimming in the sky (2:38). The creature at 2:39 is elegant, beautiful, a sight to behold, vividly painted by all sorts of colors, a callback to Underground. Its face also looks similar to the girl he’s managed to reach, symbolizing that reaching her is one of the cores of his hope. Throughout the video, we see the city to change to reflect the MC’s stream of consciousness. At (0:02), the MC is recovering from the wreckage after the mental battle in Underground, and he’s dealing with the grief of his sister, and as he comes to terms with it, the buildings gradually get cleaner and more structured, eventually colored with lights of his empathy and understanding. At (1:51), he continues to change toward hope and acceptance, and he moves toward an industrial zone, reflecting how the city is moving forward, springing back from this change stronger than ever, rebuilding and even adding new zones and structure. At (2:12), we see the sign “think it through,” as a reminder that the one-eyed man, once a force he saw as evil, is now a friend, working with him to overcome his anxieties and fears. The signs throughout the city spatter negativity like “arrogant” and “pathetic” and “regret,” but are now mixed in with “hope” and “future” and “I would put a flag here.” Then at (2:37), his hope is stronger than ever.  Then finally, the MC’s empathy and selflessness is made manifest in a way it never has been before. At  (3:01), the MC’s city seamlessly transitions into the perspective of the girl, and at (3:20) it beautifully changes into the girl’s more realistic view of the city. By empathizing with and reaching her, part of her perspective has now become his, as he’s able to learn from her and see things more objectively. He’s come to terms with his guilt, and allowed himself to truly connect with someone. By doing this, the world has opened up to him, and he’s finally able to become a part of society. He has made it.

Baumkuchen End:

At this point the MC has managed to enter society and step into the real world without running away (0:09 and 0:16). Rather than monsters of anxiety and fear, everyone he sees are normal people just like him. However, things aren’t going quite how he thought they would. He’s not afraid anymore (0:46), but he feels surprisingly empty. The world is a little less vivid than Underground, and the MC’s hair has been colored white, blank and aimless. He’s realized that things are more complicated than he expected. He went through so much to overcome his mental hangups, and now that he’s succeeded, life is still going forward. He’s struggled with that mental cycle (symbolized by the orange and blue swirl at 0:57) for so long, that he’s having a hard time seeing past it, and he feels unsure what to do with himself now that the cycle which defined him for so long is gone (0:45, “there’s nothing left to do”). In Tokyo Ghetto, the reason he couldn’t escape from himself was that deep down, he didn’t really want to leave. Part of him wants to go back to that time where things made sense, and he could comfortably wallow in hopelessness and self-pity (0:30). It’s like he hoped that once he reached this point, the credits would roll and everyone would live happily ever after (0:34, “there seems to be no ‘critical hit,’” and 0:37, “I was expecting an answer,” and we see the MC’s many paths disappear in front of him, leaving a blank wall of vague white). Not only that, but the MC is having a harder time with empathy than he expected. He wants to see beyond himself, but his own limitations are getting in the way of that. His ego has swelled somewhat after his victory (0:41), against his better judgment. Whether he likes it or not, he’s not an omniscient being that can just teleport into other people’s perspectives and points of view; he’s a human being, with their own emotions and biases and egos, and he can only see other people through the cage of his own skin. At 0:24, he vents over this struggle, lamenting “it’s all about me,” feeling both “disgusted and separated.” He hates these limitations and how he’s growing apart from the girl he reached out to. He’s afraid of getting trapped in a never-changing rut in which he can’t reach anyone, never changes, and slowly loses himself again (symbolized by the optical illusion triangle surrounded by orange inside the MC. It’s a cycle, always moving further inward, never changing.) However, things are far from hopeless. The MC isn’t the kind to give up anymore. He’s grown, and he’s more self-aware of his predicament. Throughout the video he’s introspecting, thinking to himself (0:48) and refusing to look away from the problem (0:43, 0:29, 0:38, 0:46, all throughout the video). To deal with these newfound problems, rather than get complacent and give up, he’s decided to ‘go back to school’ (0:41 and 0:58) and accept that he still has a lot to learn, that he needs to keep improving. And this time he has plenty of help. All the sides of his mind that were once his enemies: the one-eyed man’s multiple sides, the black blob of terror, the anxiety bot, and the bull-faced man (which is a japanese symbol of young people’s perspective of society); now that he’s managed to reign them in and keep them in check, he understands that they’re a part of him and they’re not going away. So instead of shunning and hating them, he’s decided to teach them how to work together (0:58). And since they’ve always wanted to help him, they eagerly accept. Through this teacher-student relationship, he’s realizing that there’s a lot he can learn from them, and they can actually help him in positive ways, like a paradigm shift. They actually have more sides and depth to them than he realized, and by shunning and fighting them, he was suppressing important parts of himself needed to improve. For example, the MC let desire aimlessly control him for so long (1:10, a strong callback to the brown of Chocolate Town), that for the longest time he ran from and shunned it (1:12). However, that desire is actually needed to motivate oneself to learn and change. That’s why the MC’s other sides are now wearing brown (0:47), because they’re all painted by the MC’s personal desire to improve. Understanding this, at 1:15 the anxiety bot makes a “no” motion, to tell him that he shouldn’t run from it. Speaking of the anxiety bot, his appearance has changed; he looks more inviting and friendly, and isn’t defined by the blue of depression anymore. “Anxiety bot” isn’t really the right name anymore, now he should be called “Motivation bot” instead. Because of the MC’s paradigm shift, the bot isn’t focused on instilling fear anymore. It’s instead focused on giving the MC a desire to improve. Because he needs a little fear to put things into perspective and keep from getting caught in a rut. He needs that reminder that time is limited, and that if he doesn’t do something, he may very well end up lost and alone. They both believe in him and know he’s strong enough to manage, so they use that fear as drive to move forward. Anxiety’s been symbolized by water throughout these MVs, and we need water to survive, so the MC keeps it under control and make sure he only takes it in in small doses (symbolized by the water bottle at 0:44).

Now that all of this is in place, the MC can start to really confront and understand the problem. He decides that the main thing he wants motivating him is the fear that the girl is suffering, with him unable to reach her or help, basically a repeat of what happened all those years ago (1:16). He’s not going to let that happen, and we see him twirling a yellow key (1:23). This is a callback to the fantasy he dreamed up in As You Like It, and how he realizes the fight isn’t over, he still needs to make that dream real. He defiantly declares “I don’t care if it’s a lie” (1:24). He’s going to make it real. At 1:25 his other sides all proudly take the stage. This calls back to Dramaturgy, but now he’s not afraid of the stage, he embraces it confidently. Now, after deciding his next move (1:30), he takes action. His first step is to hear the girl’s perspective for himself, to ensure he doesn’t create a convenient image of her in his head like he did with his sister. At 1:33 he talks to her with the support of his other sides. He opens up to her, sharing his worries and fears (“when he gets annoyed with his daily routine, he wants to break it down”). He talks in the third person because he’s starting to look at himself without being as clouded by emotion. In response, she confides in him. She tells him that she’s still having a hard time, she’s not sure if she can manage through the day-to-day, desperately gripping the rails (1:42). At 1:45 we see a shot of stairs, symbolizing that she’s suffering an uphill battle, unable to see her destination. Not too different from the MC’s situation. The girl is in a hospital gown connected to an IV, calling back to the hospital theme of Last Dance. Whereas before she was an elegant light as he struggled sick in bed, now she’s the one who needs his help. He processes what she said (1:48), and realizes that of course just reaching out to her isn’t enough. She needs to be helped through her predicament. If anyone here’s played Persona, think social links. Just wanting to help isn’t enough. He needs to regularly make time for her, teach himself how to properly talk to her, and gain life experiences. Basically, before he can tell her how to improve her life, he needs to work to improve his OWN life, turn himself into someone she can look up to, instead of just wallowing in his uselessness. This snaps him back to reality, gets him out of his doldrum (1:52 “I was attacked by this helpless dizzy night”), and we even see him reading a self-help book. A little bonus detail, in the background of the train as the MC is fighting to improve himself, we see the girl from Tokyo Ghetto, wallowing in self-pity. Turns out letting herself be consumed by her bad habits didn’t work out so well, and now she’s all alone. It could also be the MC’s old self from Tokyo Ghetto, as a visual reminder of how far he’s come. Back on track, we see the MC visiting a bakery, and ordering a strange ring cake, a Baumkuchen (1:55). This cake appears throughout the MV, and is a visual metaphor for the MC’s current actions, and how his perspective has changed. The cake is visually similar to a tree trunk, and a tree is a symbol of strength. It lives for up to entire centuries, and almost nothing can bring it down. This is possible because of its incredibly sturdy trunk and roots dug deep into the ground. A tree has rings in its trunk as a marking of its age, and the more rings it has, the longer it’s lived. This means that the stronger and wiser a tree is, the more rings it will have. Quoting a Japanese chef who specializes in Baumkuchen, “The appeal of the cake is in its many layers. The layers represent the accumulation of happiness, making it a strong icon of luck.” Sound similar? So by purchasing this cake, he’s moved beyond the As You Like It fantasy in which he does one big thing and the credits roll. Now he understands that the story’s never really over. To keep himself from falling back into his old ways, he has to create a sturdy trunk out of many small rings. This means taking on positive habits and responsibilities that he continues constantly throughout his life; working a job, going to school, scheduling his time, learning to cook, reading books to learn. He seeks to keep getting more rings, making more roots, and never getting too set in his routine. He now understands that the battle is never truly over, and he can always improve more. That’s why he’s willing to jump off the building for the cake at 2:05, because he comes to accept its importance. Once he does that, everything clicks, and he sees the light again. At 2:08, the girl’s IV is juxtaposed against the beauty of the sky. At 2:15, the Motivation Bot acts as a sort of gatekeeper. He hears the MC’s newfound purpose, and allows him to move beyond his little apartment from 0:25. At 2:18, he becomes more self-aware. He sees the enormity of the world, and how much he has to learn, and he realizes that if he keeps assuming he’s done all he can then he won’t be able to keep up. At the same time, it’s beautiful, and full of opportunity. At 2:28, the other selves watch him with pride, and once things have sunk in, they’re there to calm him down and snap him back into reality. Now the MC’s learning from them. They listen intently, (2:33) and once he’s ready to fight to get his life together and reach the girl, the Motivation Bot gives him a big hearty throw to get him started (2:42). At 2:47 we see the chairs the MC had been resting on, painted orange and blue to symbolize his previous cycle of guilt and self-destruction. They’re now empty, as proof that the MC is finally setting himself up to move beyond that cycle. At 2:45 the girl’s anxiety and hopelessness coalesces into a teddy bear, a callback to Ano Ko Secret. This is a final challenge to the MC’s selfishness and childishness, something he must overcome to finally reach others. Since her pain is a reflection of his, he’s essentially fighting himself too, and the bear attacks him with a laser at 2:53, tearing down part of the red tower from Demon Dance Tokyo. If you remember, in that song the tower was a symbol of the MC’s memory of his sister. Now, it’s being damaged because if the MC can’t grow beyond his past mistakes, he won’t learn from the mistakes he made with his sister, and he won’t be doing her life justice. 2:54 calls back to the MC’s fall at the beginning of As You Like It, a symbol of his frustration and hopelessness toward his situation, but now when he hits the ground (2:59), he takes it in stride, grits his teeth, and keeps running. At 3:04, he uses everything to fight to reach the girl; the memory of his sister, the help of his other selves, his positive habits and drive to improve. At 3:14, for the first time, the girl’s eye is colored with orange, meaning the MC’s efforts have truly touched her. At 3:16, the MC successfully reaches the girl, with the help of all his other sides supporting him. He’s made it,  and at 3:20 the glove man from As You Like It gives him a round of applause. He’s sitting in the orange-blue chair, he’s nothing more than a dream. The MC has accepted that the battle doesn’t just end, made his dream real, and the glove man is proud of him for that. At the beginning of the video, at 0:19, the explosion from As You Like It rocked the MC and girl’s world, but this time he was ready for it, looked straight ahead, and overcame that trial he feared so much. The MC’s journey will continue, and he’ll be ready for whatever comes.

Raison D'etre: 

 The MC reached the girl, and that's deeply affected her. The MC realized he could only help her after helping himself. By being a living example of what she wishes to be, she not only knows she isn't alone, she's also starting to understand what she needs to do. This video is the first time we see solely in the girl's mind rather than the MC. Her outlook's changed from the pure blue of sadness to a mix of the black of discontent and the yellow of hope. As she leaves her now messy room, going about her daily routine, she starts to get lost in introspective thought, likely something she hasn't done in a long time. Her falling into the underground of her mind, it looks similar to Ambivalent. That's because we're looking deep in her subconscious mind, seeing her fundamental outlook. It's like the mind of a child; pieces of an amusement park, a mess of toys and blocks. Our previous looks at her were almost barren of imagination; grey, lifeless, mundane. But here it's full of color and life. This shows all her deeper emotions and hopes were buried deep down inside her, and she kept from becoming totally empty by making sadness her purpose, her identity. Atop it all, we see the queen of this place, an alternate version of her with her old all-blue color scheme. An imposing crescent moon presides over the entire city, and the blue girl wears a similar crescent as a mask. A crescent moon is merely the first stage of the moon's cycle. It's perpetually a crescent moon here because the girl never moves forward, she's always waiting for something to change things for her, and this mentality blinds her. We even see that her leg is chained by blue as further proof. We can see by all the toys and such that she's being childish, she's emotionally immature. She's elected not to think and to just assume things will get better, letting her hopes come to her. If you look closely, her robot-arm things look like distorted, stylized power outlets. We see in her irl room that she's constantly plugged in, a little too exposed to technology. Nowadays our perception of the world is all too skewed by our biases via the internet. We believe what we want to believe, and there will always be a group of people online to confirm it. This girl is no different, the internet is keeping her that much more locked down. We see irl that as she walks around, the uniform grey people around her flicker like a computer glitch. She's not seeing people as they really are, the internet is skewing her perception. When we see her in the subconscious world, she's cloaked in black and red. The red is used to symbolize the girl looking to her past. For the male MC, red was almost always negative until Baumkuchen End, as guilt toward his sister was holding him back. But with the girl, the past is actually a source of hope, as she remembers the good times she had with the MC as a small child. She sees who he was, and who he's become through nothing more than his own strength. She also spins her past regret into something positive, as her failure to see outside herself and reach out to him more back then has turned into a vow to do better now. So her past frustrations and memories are coming at odds with her present blue self who expects others to come and fix things for her. At the 1:30 mark, she wakes up after this realization, horrified, having a bit of a quarter-life crisis. She finally sees things for what they really are, and she knows this can't continue. We then see the irl city surrounded by red, in the windows, street lights, cones. She had the opposite problem of the MC. While he looked to the past too much, she didn't do it enough. She needs to remember the past to remember who she is, to be able to make her own decisions. At 1:40 we see a sort of medical blockade, to show that she's put a much needed temporary stop to things so she can think about where her life's going. As she walks along, moving up stairs rather than down, she sees her black and red reflection. It scares her, because it can't be ignored at all anymore, it's pervading her real life as well. Essentially, there's no going back to her old way of life now that she's seen the truth. In her subconscious, the mental bedrock supporting the irl city fails, and her world turns upside down. Turns out her "realistic" view of the city wasn't any less a delusion than the MC's. She fights with her present self, doing markedly better, and forces her out of the subconscious and into the real world. She can't hide anymore. Now that her present self has been brought into reality, she really starts to see the truth of things. At 2:38, she sees her current path for the barren, ruined wasteland it is, and screams out in discontent. At 2:41, she realizes she'd been drowning in stress and fear the entire time, choosing not to notice. At 2:45, she's in the fetal position surrounded by a cocoon of introspection, a symbol of rebirth. At 2:48, she sees her present self in a beautiful field of reeds, as she comes to understand her. Finally, at 2:57, Her present self is flanked on both sides by red cones. She clearly sees who her enemy is, there's no doubt in her mind anymore. The two fight, her present self almost like that of an omnipresent goddess, what with her blue rays and power of flight. Yet the red girl is still able to reach her, breaking her mask of wait in the process. When she sees her face, she's almost dumbstruck, realizing her present self isn't just her enemy, she's a part of her. The two meet in the middle, coming to an understanding, similar to what the MC did in Ambivalent. The red of the past lifts away, reverting back to the yellow of the future, as the two are ready to move forward. The girl then wakes up with a smile. Like the MC, she's not going to wait on a miracle to come and rescue her anymore. From here on out, she's going to make her own choices, and decide for herself who she wants to be.

*If you’ve read this far, then thank you so much. I’ve really enjoyed making this, and these MVs have felt like looking into a mirror. Whenever I wouldn’t understand what a video means, I would just think in terms of my own struggles and experiences and everything would quickly come together. I doubt any of this was even what Eve and his animators intended, but that’s the beauty of art. Regardless of what an artist intends when making something, its messages can sometimes resonate with its viewers in ways even they didn’t expect. These MVs have impacted me so deeply that I had to get this out there, and if it reaches even one person and helps them a little, then posting this will be worth it.

Bonus Song:

Ano Ko Secret (EVERY color):

I was having a lot of trouble deciding where this song could fit, as it’s just so damn colorful and happy. In a tale about depression and guilt, why would the MC have such a fun romantic comedy amidst it all? He already has a daydream in the form of As You Like It, he doesn’t need another one. And then it seemed obvious. This song is at the beginning, before everything got out of control after the MC’s sister died. The MC and blue-haired girl have their true hair colors, because they’re both real (0:43). They’re both quite young, but because the MC is a standard happy-go-lucky kid (with an overactive mind and a touch of narcissism), he FEELS like a grown-up. When he sees the blue-haired girl, he’s infatuated with her at first sight, so she’s pretty and mysterious, also a grown-up (0:52). The MC is constantly experiencing new things, symbolized by the multi-colored bears popping out of the gacha machines en masse (0:11). He has no idea what the future might hold, but he’s eager to see it all. He even has a good friend in the form of the especially large orange bear (1:22). As orange is what we see when all colors are mixed together, this shows that the MC is able to confide in his friend and be totally honest around him. The fact that he’s a bear instead of a person could also symbolize how the MC literally sees himself as the ‘Main Character’ of his life, and others are background characters. Again, a little on the narcissistic side. But he’s so interested in the girl, that she looks different from everyone else. Because of that interest, he’s afraid to talk to her, so he enlists the help of his friend (1:03). Even together, he can’t gather up the courage, so his friend consoles him (1:19). When he finally does manage to talk to her, (albeit only through texts), all she seems to care about is his friend (1:37). He likely had a crush on her too, so with all her interest centered on the friend, asking her on a date is out of the question. He feels left out, betrayed by his best friend (1:54). But, angered, he refuses to give up, and he pushes past his fear to reach out to her anyway (2:05). Despite his best efforts, his anxiety wins out (symbolized by the black bears shooting down the white bears), and he stops just short of reaching her (2:18). However, he sees the girl reject his friend from the sidelines (2:47), and he rushes over, looking past his feelings of betrayal to console him (3:01). He doesn’t meet the girl, but when he saw her reject his friend, for a moment he saw a bit of himself in her, symbolized by them both exploring the same bear shop at 2:41. It’s a feeling he doesn’t fully understand, but he’s not afraid of her anymore, and he later works up the courage to talk to her off-screen, as proven by later songs. Neither of them truly realizes how similar they are to one another, and how their fates will be later intertwined, but their friendship will be a source of hope for them in the coming years.

[dana-sculy]

Vive Ut Vivas - Chapter Two

→ Chapter One

It’s been 84 years since I wrote the first chapter of this story, I know, sorry it took me so long to continue to write it, hope you all enjoy! To read it in AO3 come here :)

tagging @today-in-fic

In this chapter, different from the first one, we'll see the story under Scully's perceptive. It's also a way to better explore her emotions and inner feelings of the situation. Plus, since in season 11 we came to learn more about Skinner's past and how he also had to deal with trauma, I decided to use that background in the conversations between him and Scully.

Prologue

I remember a time when I was only 5 years old. It was an ordinary day of summer, and mom had decided to take her children for a picnic in the park not far away from our house. She had little pots of everything with too much sugar and more packaging than the space-shuttle. Dad had been away on the sea for a long period of time, and even under the naïve perceptions of myself as a kid, it was possible to see how much she missed him. I don’t know if the picnic was an attempt of cheering the mood more for herself or for us. I should’ve been worried, but instead I just gave her my best smile and pulled out the fresh baked baguettes with brie and cranberry.

The air was warm that day, the beams of sunlight glowed on my skin. Melissa liked to sit close to the flowers and inspect them, under the freshly cut green grass. Charlie and Bill would start fighting with each other any time soon; it was sort of their motto. And that was my cue to go get and adventure by myself.

Looking back today, I wonder how could I and Melissa get along so well together. We were opposites in everything: she was the model, girly girl, who loved dresses, flowers, dolls and the piano lessons mom made sure we attended to. I was never that way. I loved dogs, sports and comfortable pants. I would only come inside home when mom called me with that tone of threat, which is the reason to my abundancy of freckles, due to hours and hours under the sun, climbing trees, running and playing around.

I was the tough child, I guess. Mel was the soft, popular one. That hasn’t changed much now that we’re adults. I still don’t go very well with softness; I keep it under tons of labored layers, deep inside.

This was mainly the reason I feared so badly to come here and stay with my sister. She has always had this thing of hers that somehow goes straight into your heart and sees everything. I’m a private, reserved person, and I like keeping my feelings only to myself. But that never really worked with Mel. Let’s say she would be very good at interrogations.

---

After what felt like an eternity, my tears, which eventually turned into little sobs, finally went away. At some point, Melissa’s tightened her hold on me; there wasn’t much else she could do about the whole situation for now. I ran my fingers through her knuckles, and she released me slowly.

“I guess I’ll be going, Mel.” – I feel terrible for leaving her after such an intimate moment, and especially because I know she’ll have a lot of other questions for me now.

“Work stuff you said, right?” – She sounds discouraged, but not mad, at the very least.

“Yes. Skinner had called me in the morning and he’s expecting me at the Bureau. So… I’d better be on my way.” – I rise from the couch and start to collect my things, stuffing them in my purse. It feels weird, not having my badge with me.

I say goodbye to my sister without turning to look back at her. If I did that, she would find her way into convincing me to stay. Even so, I can still feel her eyes burning on me, absorbing each detail, each movement I do. I close the door quietly and follow my way down the stairs of her building.

---

FBI headquarters  - 3:00 p.m.

There is a feeling: it starts when you enter a place you’ve already been a thousand times before, and yet, when you look around, you feel like it’s not the same, even though nothing’s really changed. You try desperately to find out what is different, but the only thing you find is a bitter taste in the back of your mouth, a feeling of intrusion, as if you were the wrong peace of a puzzle, trying to fit in.

I enter through the front door, the big cement columns threatening to smash my tiny figure as I pass them to go through the metal detector machine.

As the elevator doors open, I feel a sense of relief as I notice it’s empty. I am aware that my abduction has made me quite a popular person in the bureau, as if being part of the X Files division hadn’t already granted me that. Mulder talked with me about how a few people, whose existence he’s never known before, had stopped him at the corridor to ask if Mrs. Spooky had been taken by his fellow aliens, or simply to know what really happened to me.

Being a woman in a field that is predominantly occupied by men has taught me that the standards are never equal when it comes to gender difference. I had to work harder than most of my male colleagues at Quantico to stand out, and now as an agent, I feel more than grateful to be Mulder’s partner, because, unlike the others, he treats me like an equal, recognizing my work as an agent without making me feel less capable due to being a woman, and protecting me when it’s needed without making me feel like I couldn’t handle myself.

The problem in that is that it often makes me forget how mean the rest of the bureau can be. I realize I wasn’t that lucky when the elevator doors open again, now in Skinner’s office floor, and I see a very crowded hall ready to swallow me up.

The loud noise of my high heels coming in contact with the floor fill my ears and I feel my body threatening to throw up all the remnants of the cheap lunch I had back at the hospital. I walk silently, looking straight away and trying my best to avoid the curious eyes that follow me. I hear whispers too, but my ears don’t register any words being said. My mind is way too busy fighting to keep me standing and moving forward. Thank God Skinner’s office is not so far from the elevator itself, and I get there quickly enough.

Arlene’s attention is instantly drawn to the creaking door as I open it, increasing considerably as she recognizes my singular figure entering the precinct. She tries her best to be discreet, though. She even gives me a little smile, embarrassed with the whole situation.

“Agent Scully, you can go inside. Mr. Skinner is already waiting for you.” – with that, she returns to typing in her computer.

Skinner is indeed expecting me as I walk to a chair in his conference table. Different from the others, he doesn’t show any sign of curiosity or pity. I feel immensely thankful for that, so I give him a smile. I’m well aware that the evaluation is merely standard procedure, not to mention that it’s just me and Skinner there, but, still, the knot in my stomach doesn’t subside a bit. I guess after all that’s happened, my mind had gotten a little susceptible to Mulder’s paranoia of breaking The X-Files division, and shutting our careers down along with that. Let’s not think about that right now, Dana. I turn the focus of my mind on taking long, deep breaths.

“Agent, Scully, it’s a relief to see you well.” – Skinner is sincere in his words, as he looks straight into my eyes to show me he means it. – “I hope you understand the need of this procedure. You were under a highly stressful situation and that requires a bureau evaluation, to make sure you’re ready to go back to field”.

“Thank you, Sir, I understand. I just want to go back to work as soon as I can.” – And forget this nightmare, I think to myself. For a moment, I wish Mulder could be here. His crack jokes and sassy faces would certainly help lighten the mood.

I remember Mulder with that thought, how he was worried with me coming back so soon, how he couldn’t help himself in hiding his desire to have my company back, despite that. My memory traces the lines of our office: the dusty shells of stuff Mulder makes sure to keep there, his table, his geek poster I came to like with time, the silly green alien key chain he bought me last summer, while lecturing me about how aliens are actually grey. It gives my heart some comfort to remember something so familiar to me.

“Good to hear that, agent. So, let’s begin, shall we?”

Thereby, Skinner starts to present me a series of routine questions, then about standard FBI procedure, and, finally, questions with, I suppose, a more psychological approach. Turns out it’s not that bad, after all. I feel relieved.

After I give my last answer, he pauses, closing his eyes for a bit. He uses the tips of his long fingers to massage his temples, and then takes a deep breath.

“If you allow me, Dana, I’d like to talk to you, off the record.”

I realize I won’t escape personal interrogations today, so I give him a week nod.

“Listen… Your test shows no reason to keep you away from work. That said, I’m letting you know you can return to work any time.”

“I see a ‘but’ coming” – I attempt to make a joke, but he doesn’t alter his serious face.

“Well, yes, indeed. As your boss, I’ll tag along with the evaluation, but as your friend, I’d like to advise you to go home, Dana. You’ll continue to be paid normally even if you take some more time off, and you really should do that. Go be with your family, go rest and give your body and soul time to heal. Trust me, I know the feeling. Your strength is increasing and your body seems better, so it feels like you’re ready to go back to action, but these wounds, Dana, they’re bigger than they look. They can threaten to unsettle your spirit in the most inconvenient of times, and I wouldn’t forgive myself if that caused another risk to your life, or to agent Mulder.”

He was probably right; I knew it in my heart. But how could I tell him that taking time was consuming me, that it was making me mourn over and over again all the things I lost during my abduction? I could no longer rest unless I was under the effect of my sleeping pills, or drowsy due to my strong medication, because when their effect passed away, all I could see in my mind was the same nightmare over and over again. I must've let out something, because when I turned my eyes back to Skinner’s, he had a bigger frown on his face.

“Don’t fight me on this, Dana. You’re the bravest agent I know, but that doesn’t mean you don’t need help.” – He waited for a response, so I opened my mouth in an attempt of an answer.

“Sir, I appreciate your concern, but I really need to work.” – I sigh – “I need something to focus my mind on. I’ll be careful, plus, Mulder will be there to help me.” – I try to give him my best sad-puppy face. It seems to work.

“That’s not the answer I hoped for.” – Now it’s his turn to sigh. – “But I know you well enough to understand that trying to convince you otherwise won’t make any difference.”

“Thank you for understanding that, Sir.” – As I rise from my seat, he speaks once again.

“Agent, as you’re released to come back to work, I want you to be aware that, due to the circumstances of your case, you’ll have to go through periodic psychological counseling. That is not negotiable, agent Scully, but don’t worry, everything you say during session will remain private, these routine sessions are just to make sure you recover from your experience.”

I nod to him and find my way to the door, but he calls my name when I’m about to leave the room.

“Just one more thing, Dana.” – I turn to him. – “As you return, if you feel like you can’t stand a situation, anytime, my offer stands. Promise me you’ll accept help from the ones closer to you.”

From all the times Mulder and I had to count on Skinner’s assistance, I’ve learned to trust him and to believe in the fact that he really cares for us both, but now, from the way he says this words and the look on his face, I feel like this is more than just concern for me. It feels personal, and I’m inclined to conclude that he’s had his amount of trauma too.

“I promise.” – I tell him and leave, there’s a basement I have to go to.

[qionow]

Spider on the Wall

It gets lonely, waiting to eat a meal set for two, but Japan would never admit that to Greece, not with the heavy workload that her exhausted lover’s been dealing with. Still, she knows how to do her best to support Greece.

She knows how to keep herself quiet when things fall apart.

Japan was used to the silence. 

The doors leading to the garden were easily opened, allowing the tranquil night air to slowly seep through the spacious rooms and settle over the house in a soothing call to sleep. With the garden just outside, the hushed chirps of the crickets hidden in the grass mixed with the brush of the wind through the leaves were easily blended together in a muted melody that Japan could enjoy from just about any room.

But for now, she quietly opened the door to the dining room, sliding the shoji screen open with careful fingers only to find the same sight that she had been staring at since the night had first fallen. 

The table was still set for two, bowls and plates left untouched from when she had first arranged them. The miso soup and rice had long since cooled, tonkatsu left in sliced strips on each of the plates. She had left the cups empty though, tea still warm in the pot on the stove and ready to be served with the meal once the time came. 

Japan looked over the abandoned scene once before she made her way over to the other side of the table, gently straightening the chopsticks resting on the sleek black holder. 

Her hand skidded when she heard the door open, knocking over the chopsticks as her head whipped up. She made to straighten back up, but hastily reached back down to adjust them one final time before she hurried out of the room, throwing the shoji door open in her haste. 

She could hear the heavy thud of boots being tossed into the entryway, breaking through the calm of the night in a way that she was eternally grateful for. It only took a second before Japan was at the doorway, standing on the wooden boards that bordered the tatami and struggling to catch her breath. 

“Okaeri.” Japan bowed her head, taking the brief moment to hide her flushed face and regain her control. “I am glad that you have made it back safely.” 

A low hum was her only response before the boards creaked with slow footsteps that stopped in front of her. “You don’t need to be that formal.” 

When she raised her head again, Japan was met with Greece’s tired gaze, exhaustion seeming to bear itself down on her shoulders with each passing second. Her tan jacket was rumpled and nearly falling down her arms, short brown hair tangled in an untamed mess on top of her head. Greece’s posture was slouched, gradually getting worse as dark green eyes slowly fell shut before they managed to open again. 

Everything about her struck a deep chord of worry within Japan’s chest. 

“I apologize,” she said quietly, “I will remember next time.” 

Greece huffed out a laugh, the sound hushed, but still enough for Japan to cherish. “Don’t worry about it.” 

A muffled yawn stretched out her final words and that was enough to snap Japan back into action. 

“Ah, please, come in!” Japan hurried out of the way to let Greece onto the tatami, bowing her head once more for good measure. “You must be tired after such a long week.” 

“It’s nothing new,” Greece replied easily, slowly ambling past her. “I just need a nap.” 

Japan paused, taking a deep breath before she spoke.

“I-” 

She stopped herself when Greece turned to look at her, peeking over her shoulder patiently until Japan could find the right words. She already knew her answer before she even asked the question, but there was still a small part of her that held onto the hope that maybe tonight would be the night it would change.  

“I made dinner, if you are hungry. It’s a little more than usual, but I thought you might like something heavier.” 

Japan caught the hesitation that flickered across Greece’s face and she knew it would be no different. Greece opened her mouth once before she shut it again, glancing off to the side before she looked back at Japan. “I have work tomorrow, and it’s already late.” 

Japan caught the hidden request in her words, although that little act of perception did nothing to stop her shoulders from slumping. 

“It’ll lighten up soon,” Greece was quick to promise. “My boss just needs me right now. I’ll probably have a better schedule next week.”

“I understand.” She should have stopped there, should have kept her mouth shut and nodded along, but the doubts that piled up for so long slowly crept out before she could stop them. “You have been working late for a while now, though.”

Greece frowned, slowly making her way back to stand in front of Japan. “It’s not that bad.” 

“That does not mean it is good.” Japan couldn’t even bring herself to meet Greece’s eyes, keeping her gaze fixed on the crinkled lapel of her jacket instead. “I can help, if you would like me to. There is not much left for me to do these days.” 

“You don’t have to.” 

“But-” 

“No.” 

Japan silenced herself when Greece’s voice hardened, freezing in place for a moment before she finally spoke again. 

“You’re always gone now.”

Greece let out a weary sigh, the firm set to her face fading away. “I know.”

She leaned down, hand slowly coming up to brush Japan’s bangs out of the way in order to press a small kiss to her forehead. 

“I can handle this on my own. I just need a little more time.” Her fingers carded through short raven locks in an attempt to straighten them out again. “You deserve a break, anyways.”

There were so many thoughts running through Japan’s head that she could barely keep track of them all, lost in her own hazy mind as Greece straightened up. Worries and solutions and pleas all melted together into a mess of scrambled words and meaningless phrases. 

You deserve one too, are you still eating, please go to sleep, I don’t want a break like this, I’ll talk to your boss, I’ll fix it for you, I’ll help you, I miss you-

“I see.”

But Japan would never let those thoughts see the light of day. 

“I didn’t mean to keep you for so long.” She motioned towards the shoji door with a gentle hand. “Please, go rest. I’ve set up the futon already.” 

Greece still didn’t seem convinced, pausing with a frown that held no hidden amount of suspicion. “Are you sure?” 

“Hai.” Japan easily put a smile on her face, the kind she used to receive from Greece. “I will join you later. There are just some things I need to clean up first.” 

If this had happened before, she knew that Greece would have stubbornly stayed in place to argue until she conceded and went to bed with her. But now, when her workload was skyrocketing and her energy was being drained faster than ever, all she did was nod slowly and trod down the hall.

“Don’t stay up too late.” 

“I won’t. Oyasumi.” 

Japan waited until Greece’s slouched form vanished, the screen closing behind her back and plucking her from sight. She stayed in the entrance for a moment longer as the silence returned, the quiet deafening once Greece left. 

Japan couldn’t stay there any longer, making her way back past the dining room into the kitchen. Plastic containers were pulled out from the cabinets and Japan had to pause when she saw the limited number left. There had to have been more than that, she could have sworn there were more.

She chose to close the cabinet. 

The miso soup was poured away and sealed with care, the tonkatsu packaged and rice wrapped up into tidy squares. For a moment, Japan briefly wondered if she should start leaving her meals on the stove instead, where she wouldn’t have to bother with unused plates that she would have to wash later. 

That thought was quickly cast aside as she shook her head and hefted up the containers. Greece deserved better than that. 

Japan had never noticed how quiet her own footsteps were until it was all she had to listen to, socks falling against the tatami with muted landings. It was nothing like the heavier footsteps she had come to look forward to, if only because they brought some kind of sound to her home. 

She opened the door to the refrigerator, briefly checking over the food in her arms before she glanced up at the shelves. 

The containers hit the floor with barely more than a thud. 

Japan slapped a hand over her mouth to muffle her heaving breaths, sinking to her knees in the harsh artificial light. Her eyes stung with tears, barely kept together as her steady breathing was shaken with hiccups and sharp inhales. 

It was just food. Nothing more. It shouldn’t have mattered. It was just food.

Food kept in plastic containers and packed into the refrigerator, night after night of uneaten meals tucked away. Food left uneaten, reheated in the morning for a solitary breakfast. Food made for two, but only acknowledged by one.

Japan squeezed her eyes shut, nails digging into her cheek in a desperate attempt to keep her volume under control. She wanted to scream, to cry, to wail and throw all of those containers out, to make enough noise that Greece would come running after all of the nights when she had gone to bed alone. 

She wanted to shatter the silence that had poisoned her home, suffocating her with each cycle of the sun and moon until she thought she would drown in the quiet that never dissolved away. 

Japan had never despised the quiet as much as she did now.

Silence was a thing not to be broken once it was enforced though, and she knew this better than anybody else. 

Japan kept her voice hushed as she sobbed on the kitchen floor, the door left open so she could face the result of her labor. The containers at her knees were left abandoned in favor of the towering piles that rested in the refrigerator. 

It took practice, but Japan managed to restrict herself to small gasps that had her chest heaving with each small intake of air until she became no louder than the distant chirping of the crickets or the rush of the wind that wisped through the open door.

She didn’t dare to disturb the quiet. Greece deserved to sleep well, after all.

[upontheshelfreviews]

Last year I talked about Fantasia, which is not just one of my favorite Disney movies, but one of my favorite movies in general. And if I may be self-indulgent for a moment, it’s also one of the reviews that I’m the proudest of. Fantasia is a visual, emotional masterpiece that marries music and art in a manner few cinematic ventures have come close to replicating. One question that remains is what my thoughts on the long-gestated sequel is –

…you might wanna get yourselves some snacks first.

As anyone who read my review on the previous film knows, Fantasia was a project ahead of its time. Critics and audiences turned their noses up at it for conflicting reasons, and the film didn’t even make it’s budget back until twenty-something years later when they began marketing it to a very different crowd.

“I don’t wanna alarm you dude, but I took in some Fantasia and these mushrooms started dancing, and then there were dinosaurs everywhere and then they all died, but then these demons were flying around my head and I was like WOOOOOAAAHHH!!”

“Yeah, Fantasia is one crazy movie, man.”

“Movie?”

Fantasia’s unfortunate box office failure put the kibosh on Walt Disney’s plans to make it a recurring series with new animated shorts made to play alongside handpicked favorites. The closest he came to following through on his vision was Make Mine Music and Melody Time, package features of shorts that drew from modern music more than classical pieces.

Fast-forward nearly fifty years later to the golden age known as the Disney Renaissance: Walt’s nephew Roy E. Disney surveys the new crop of animators, storytellers, and artists who are creating hit after hit and have brought the studio back to his uncle’s glory days, and thinks to himself, “Maybe now we can make Uncle Walt’s dream come true.” He made a good case for it, but not everyone was on board. Jeffrey Katzenberg loathed the idea, partly because he felt the original Fantasia was a tough act to follow (not an entirely unreasonable doubt) but most likely due to the fact that the last time Disney made a sequel, The Rescuers Down Under, it drastically underperformed (even though the reasons for that are entirely Katzenberg’s fault. Seriously, watch Waking Sleeping Beauty and tell me you don’t want to punch him in the nose when Mike Gabriel recalls his opening weekend phone call).

Once Katzenberg was out of the picture, though, Fantasia 2000, then saddled with the less dated but duller moniker Fantasia Continued, got the go-ahead. Many of the sequences were made simultaneously as the animated features my generation most fondly remembers, others were created to be standalone shorts before they were brought into the fold. Since it was ready in time for the new millennium, it not only got a name change but a massive marketing campaign around the fact that it would be played on IMAX screens for a limited run, the very first Disney feature to do so. As a young Fantasia fan who had never been to one of those enormous theaters before, I begged and pleaded my parents to take me. Late that January, we traveled over to the IMAX theater at Lincoln Center, the only one nearest to us since they weren’t so widespread as they are now, and what an experience it was. I can still recall the feeling of awe at the climax of Pines of Rome, whispering eagerly with my mom at how the beginning of Rhapsody in Blue looked like a giant Etch-A-Sketch, and jumping twenty feet in the air when the Firebird’s massive eyes popped open. But did later viewings recapture that magic, or did that first time merely color my perception?

We open on snippets from the original Fantasia…IN SPAAAAAAAAACE!

It reminds me a little of the opening to Simply Mad About The Mouse, where bits of classic Disney nostalgia fly about to evoke the mood of this upcoming musical venture. In a clever conceit, snippets of Deems Taylor’s original opening narration explaining Fantasia’s intent and music types plays over the orchestra and animators materializing and gearing up for the first sequence, which jumps right into –

DUN DUN DUN DUUUUUUN – I mean, Symphony #5 – Ludwig Van Beethoven

Here, a bunch of butterflies flee and then fight off swarms of bats with the power of light – I can’t be the only one who saw these things and thought it was butterflies vs. bats, right?

It does look cool with its waterfalls and splashes of light and color bursting through the clouds, but this brings me to a bit of contention I have with the movie.

When I planned this review I was going to do a new version of “Things Fantasia Fans Are Sick of Hearing”, except there were only four major complaints I could think of that. On further introspection, I admit they are legitimate grievances worth addressing. I’m going to get them out of the way all at once in order to keep things rolling.

#1 – This Seems Familiar…

Certain sequences are noticeably derivative from the first movie. It’s as if they were afraid of trying too many new things that would alienate audiences so they borrowed from their predecessor in an effort to say “Hey, we can do this too!” Symphony #5 is clearly trying to be Tocatta and Fugue with its abstract geometric shapes swooping all over to kick things off. Though I love how much character the animators managed to give two pairs of triangles, Tocatta’s soaring subconscious flights of fancy leaves me more enthralled. Carnival of the Animals literally began as a sequel to Dance of the Hours until the ostriches became flamingoes. And Roy E. Disney openly stated he wanted the last sequence, The Firebird Suite to have the same death and rebirth theme as Night on Bald Mountain/Ave Maria, which they got, right down to a terrifying symbol of destruction emerging from a mountain to wreak chaos.

‘Sup, witches?

#2 – Too Short

Speaking of repeating the past, the original idea for Fantasia 2000 was to follow Walt’s vision in that three favorite segments would make a return amongst the newer ones – the Nutcracker Suite, which was eventually cut for time, Dance of the Hours, which I’ve already stated morphed into Carnival of the Animals, and finally, The Sorcerer’s Apprentice, the obvious choice to keep since that’s the most popular piece out of any of them. Cutting things for time doesn’t make that much sense, however, when you realize that Fantasia 2000’s runtime is only 75 minutes. A very short animated film by today’s standards that lasts barely half as long as its previous installment. I don’t see why they couldn’t keep at least one other sequence from the first Fantasia to make things last a little longer and keep in the original idea’s spirit.

#3 – All Story, No Experimentation

Unlike the first Fantasia, all of the sequences have a linear narrative structure that’s easy to follow. Not a bad thing and kudos to you if you’re among that group who prefers Fantasia 2000 for because of that, but again, I admire how the original film didn’t stick to a coherent story the whole time; how it was unafraid to let the music, atmosphere, and visuals speak for itself without sticking to a three-act plot and designated protagonist for every piece.

#4 – The One You’ve Been Waiting For, The Host Segments

One of the things that turned Fantasia off for its detractors was Deems Taylor’s seemingly dry narration. But maybe Fantasia 2000 can fix that with some folks who are hip and with it, perhaps a wild and crazy guy or two…

Eh, he’ll do.

Now, the idea of varying segment hosts isn’t an altogether bad idea. Most of them work well: Angela Lansbury gives the lead-in to the Firebird Suite plenty of gravitas befitting the finale, as do Ithzak Perlman, Quincy Jones, and James Earl Jones, who build plenty of intrigue for Pines of Rome, Rhapsody in Blue and Carnival of the Animals respectively; this seriousness makes James’ reaction to what the Carnival segment is really about a successful comic subversion. Even Penn and Teller for all their obnoxiousness kind of works with The Sorcerer’s Apprentice due to the linking magic theme.

I suppose what turns people off is the self-congratulatory tone and seemingly forced attempts at comedy you get from Martin, Penn, Teller, and Bette Midler. But you know what? They still make me laugh after all these years (well, you have to laugh at Bette Midler’s antics or she’ll come after you when the Black Flame Candle is lit). In fact, I have to hand it to Midler’s intro in particular. Fantasia 2000 came out right around the time I began taking a keen interest in what animation really was and how it was made. For me, her preceding The Steadfast Tin Soldier piece with tidbits about Fantasia segments that didn’t make it past the drawing board was like the first free hit that turned me into an animation junkie (plus this was before you could look up anything on the topic in extraneous detail on the internet, so it had that going for it). If I have to nitpick, though, The Divine Miss M referring to Salvador Dalí as “the melting watches guy” is a bit reductive. That’d be like calling Babe Ruth “the baseball guy” or Walt Disney “the mouse and castle guy”. Plus, Dalí and Disney were close compadres with a layered history. They planned on many collaborations, though the fruit of their labors, Destino, would not be completed in either of their lifetimes. Couldn’t show just a modicum of respect there, Bette?

Ahhh! I take it back! Don’t steal my soul!

So, I wouldn’t say I hate or even completely dislike the host segments. Sorry to disappoint everyone who was hoping for me to rip into them. They’re not awful, just uneven. And if you think they ruin the movie for me, you’ve got another think coming.

Pines of Rome – Ottorino Respighi

The idea for Pines of Rome’s visuals came about due to an unusual detail in some concept art. Someone noticed that a particular cloud in a painting of the night sky heavily resembled a flying whale. So why make a short about flying whales? The better question would be why NOT make a short about flying whales? A supernova in the night sky miraculously gives some whales the ability to swim through the air over the icy seas. Again, seeing this in IMAX was incredible. There’s just one minor issue I have with. This and another segment were developed well before Pixar made its silver screen debut, and unfortunately, it shows twenty years later; the worst cases are the close-ups.

Okay, who put googly eyes on the moldy beanbag?

There are ways of blending CGI and hand-drawn animation well, and this isn’t one of them. I understand the necessity of having expressive eyes but simply dropping one on top of a CGI creature gives it a bit of an uncanny valley feel. They should have either stuck with traditional all the way or made the whales entirely CG. The CG animation of the whales themselves isn’t too shabby, so they could have pulled it off.

Because simply giving whales flight apparently isn’t enough to hold an audience’s interest, we have an adorable baby whale earning his wings, so to speak. Once he gets his bearings above the surface, he swoops ahead of his family and bothers a flock of seagulls. They chase him into a collapsing iceberg, leaving him trapped, alone and unable to fly. The quiet dip in the music combined with the image of this lost little calf adds some genuine emotional weight to this piece. The baby navigates the iceberg’s claustrophobic caverns until he finds a crevice that elevates him back to his worried parents. From there a whole pod of whales rises out of the ocean to join them as they fly upwards to the supernova’s source.

“So long, and thanks for all the krill!”

As the music reaches its brilliant crescendo, the whales plow through storm clouds until they reach the top of the world and breach through the stars like water. It’s an awe-inspiring climax of a short that, flaws and all, reminds you of what Fantasia is all about.

Majestic.

Rhapsody in Blue – George Gershwin

The music of jazz composer George Gershwin? Timeless. The art of renowned caricaturist Al Hirschfeld? Perfection. All this brought to life with the best animation Disney has to offer? It’s a match made in heaven. Eric Goldberg, who animated the Genie among other comedic characters, idolized Hirschfeld and drew plenty of inspiration from drawings, so getting to work alongside him while making this was nothing short of a dream come true. That attention to detail in rendering Hirschfeld’s trademark curvy two-dimensional style goes beyond mere homage. It is a love letter to a great artist that encapsulates everything about him and his craft, and to a great city that we both had the honor of calling home. The story goes that Goldberg screened the final product for Hirschfeld shortly before his 96th birthday and his wife told him after that it was the best gift he could have ever received.

All this to say I am quite fond of this particular short, thank you very much.

The piece follows four characters navigating 1930’s Manhattan and crossing paths over the course of a single day:

Duke, a construction worker torn between his steady, monotonous job and following his dream of drumming in a jazz band,

Joe, a victim of the Great Depression desperately looking for work,

Rachel, a little girl who wants to spend time with her parents but is forced to attend lesson after lesson by her strict governess,

and “Flying” John, a henpecked husband longing to be free from his overbearing wife –

And her little dog too!

By the way, John is modeled in name and in looks after Disney animation historian John Culhane, who also was the inspiration for The Rescuers’ Mr. Snoops, hence why the two look so similar. He’s not the only name who appears in this sequence: Gershwin himself makes a surprise cameo as he takes over Rachel’s piano solo halfway through the story.

Speaking of, my family used to compare me to Rachel because at that point in my young life I was doing or already did the same mandatory activities as she – swimming, ballet, music, sports, all with the same amount of speed and varying degrees of success.

No one can argue that art is where we both excelled, however.

The physical timing of Rhapsody in Blue’s animation is hilarious, though it doesn’t rely wholly on slapstick for its humor. The sight gags and clever character dynamics all weaved into the music milk plenty of laughs, and envelop you in this living, breathing island that is Manhattan.

I speak from experience, this is the most accurate depiction of commuting on the 1 train that there ever was.

Even with such a premise and two masters of combining comedy and art, there is still enough pathos to keep the story rooted. Take when all four characters are at their lowest point. They look down on some skaters in Rockefeller Center and picture themselves in their place fulfilling their deepest desires. Seeing their dreams so close in their minds and yet so far away while paired with the most stirring part of the score is heartwrenching.

In the end, things pick up as the characters unwittingly solve each other’s problems. Duke quits the construction site, leaving an opening for Joe to fill. Joe accidentally snags John’s wife on a hook and hauls her screaming into the air, allowing him one night of uninhibited fun at the club where Duke performs.

“Anyone hear something? Nah, it’s probably just me.”

Rachel loses her ball while fighting with her nanny, which Duke bounces off the window of her parents’ office, which in turn gets them to notice their daughter about to run into traffic and they save her. Everyone gets their happy ending and it ends on a spectacularly glamorous shot of Time Square lit up in all its frenetic neon glory.

And not a single knockoff costumed character hitting up tourists for photos. Those were the days, my friend.

If you haven’t guessed by now, I adore Rhapsody in Blue. It’s easily my favorite part of the movie; a blissful ménage-a-trois of art style, music and storytelling, and it’s so New York that the only New York things I could think of that are missing are Central Park and amazing bagels. This sequence is gut-busting, energized, emotional, and mesmerizing in its form. I don’t often say I love a piece of animation so much that I’d marry it, but when I do, it’s often directed at Rhapsody in Blue.

  Piano Concerto #2 – Dmitri Shostakovich (aka The One With The Steadfast Tin Soldier)

This piece has an interesting history attached to it. Disney wanted to do an animated film surrounding Hans Christian Andersen’s fairy tales – including The Little Mermaid and The Steadfast Tin Soldier – as far back as the 30’s, but the project fell by the wayside. During Fantasia 2000’s production, Roy E. Disney asked if they could do something with Shostakovich’s Piano Concerto #2 since he and his daughter were attached to that piece. He looked over sketches and storyboards made for the unrealized Tin Soldier sequence and discovered the music matched in perfect time with the story.

This is the second sequence that features CGI at the forefront. Unlike Pines of Rome, though, it works because the main characters are toys, and you can get away with your early CGI looking shiny and metallic and plastic-like when you’re animating toys.

Hell, it worked for Pixar.

The story centers on a tin soldier cast with only one leg who is shunned by his comrades for routinely throwing off their groove. He falls in love with a porcelain ballerina when he mistakes her standing en pointe as her also missing a limb. Despite his embarrassment when he learns the truth, the ballerina is enamored with him as well. This rouses the jealousy of an evil jack-in-the-box who I swear is a caricature of Jeffrey Katzenberg minus the glasses but with a goatee and Lord Farquaad wig.

“MUST. CHOP. EVERYTHING!!!”

The jack-in-the-box and the soldier duke it out for a bit before the former sends the latter flying out the window in a little wooden boat. The boat floats the soldier into the sewers and attracts a horde of angry rats who attack him, because animated rodents seem to have a natural hatred towards toy soldiers.

Case in point.

The soldier hurtles into the sea where he’s eaten by a fish – which is caught the following morning, packed up to be sold at market, bought by the cook who works at the very house he came from, and he falls out of the fish’s mouth on the floor where his owner finds him and places him back with the rest of the toys. Now the story this is based on hints that the jack-in-the-box is really a goblin who orchestrates the soldier’s misfortunes with his malicious magic. But based the extremely coincidental circumstances of his return home, I’d say the soldier’s the one who’s got some reality-warping tricks up his sleeve.

The soldier and jack-in-the-box duel again that evening, but this time the harlequin harasser falls into the fireplace and burns up. Our hero gets the girl and lives happily ever after. A nice conclusion, though a far cry from what happened in the original tale: the ballerina is knocked into the fire, the soldier jumps in after her, and all that remains of them by morning is some melted tin in the shape of a heart. I gotta say, for all my love of classic fairytales, Disney made the right call. Andersen’s life was far from magical and it reflected in his stories, making many of them depressing for no good reason. The triumphant note the music ends on also would have clashed horribly if they stuck with the original. Even the Queen of Denmark agreed with Disney’s decision to soften their adaptations of Andersen’s work. I don’t know if I’d call The Steadfast Tin Soldier one of my very favorite parts of Fantasia 2000, but in the end, s’all right.

  Carnival of the Animals: Finale – Camille Sant-Saëns

This shortest of shorts (clocking in at less than two minutes) kicks off with James Earl Jones asking with as much seriousness as he can muster from the situation, what would happen if you gave a yo-yo to a flock of flamingos?

The answer –

Good answer!

Fie on those who dismiss this part as a silly one-off that doesn’t belong here. Fie, I say! It’s a pure delight full of fun expressions and fluid fast-paced action. Once again we have my man Eric Goldberg to thank for this, though this time he animated it entirely by himself. I’d call it a one-man show except for the fact that his wife Susan handpainted the entire thing with watercolor, making it look like it sprung to life straight from a paintbrush. It’s a simple diversion about a flamingo who wants to play with his yo-yo while the other snooty members of his flock try to force him to conform. As you can see from the still, they fail quite epically. Nothing beats the power of nonconformity and yo-yos (also every yo-yo move featured here is authentic; I love when animators go that extra mile).

  The Sorcerer’s Apprentice plays next, but since I already touched on that in the first Fantasia review, I’m skipping over it. The segment ends with Mickey congratulating Leopold Stokowski (again), then crossing the barriers of time and space to inform the conductor, James Levine, that he needs to track down the star of the next segment, Donald Duck. Levine stalls by explaining a bit about what’s to come while Mickey frantically searches for his errant costar. The surround sound sells the notion of him moving around the back of the theater accidentally causing mischief all the while. Thankfully, Donald is found and the sequence commences.

Pomp and Circumstance – Edward Elgar

This famous piece of music was included at the insistence of Michael Eisner after he attended his son’s graduation ceremony. He wanted to feature a song that everyone was already familiar with. Of course, since this was after Frank Well’s untimely passing and no one was bold enough to temper Eisner’s worst instincts with common sense, his original pitch had every animated couple Disney created up to that point marching on to Noah’s Ark – and then marching out with their babies.

Okay, A: Unless you’re doing a groin hit joke or are Ralph Bakshi or R. Crum, cartoon characters don’t have junk as a rule. And B, one of the unwritten rules of Disney animation is that barring kids that already exist like the titular 101 Dalmatians or Duchess’ kittens, the established canon couples do not in any official capacity have children.

To which Eisner laughed maniacally and vowed that they would.

But in order to placate Eisner’s desire to turn every branch of the Disney corporation into a commercial for itself, the animators compromised and agreed to do Pomp and Circumstance with the Noah’s Ark theme, BUT with only one couple – Donald and Daisy Duck. In this retelling of the biblical tale, Donald acts as Noah’s beleaguered assistant (I guess Shem, Ham, and Japheth were too busy rounding up the endangered species). Daisy provides emotional support while preparing to move on to the ark as well. It’s refreshing to see these two not losing their temper at each other for a change. I wish we got to see this side of their relationship more often. Donald returns Daisy’s easily lost plot device locket to her and as the rain rain rain comes down down down, he starts directing the animals on board; the lions, the tigers, the bears, the…ducks?

Anyway, all the animals and Donald get on board – well, most of them do.

The world’s first climate change deniers.

Donald realizes Daisy hasn’t arrived yet and runs out to look for her, unaware that she’s already boarded. Daisy sees Donald leaving but is too late to stop him before the first floodwaters hit their home. Donald made it back to the ark in time, however, though both of them believe that the other is forever lost to them. I find it astounding that they never run into each other not even once during the forty days and forty nights they’re cooped up on that boat. It’s the American Tail cliche all over again, and well, at least it’s happening in a short and not the entire movie.

Soon the ark lands atop Mount Ararat and the animals depart in greater numbers than when they embarked on their singles cruise. Daisy realizes halfway down the mountain that she’s lost her locket again, which Donald finds at that very moment while sweeping up, and the two are joyously reunited.

“I thought you were dead!” “I thought YOU were dead!”

I kid around, but I truly enjoy this short a lot. There’s so much warmth to Donald and Daisy’s relationship that makes their reunion at the end all the sweeter, and there’s plenty of great slapstick to offset the drama in the meantime. I will admit it’s nice to hear there’s more to Pomp And Circumstance than just the famous march, and the entire suite matches flawlessly with the visuals, though the main theme itself is so ingrained into the public consciousness that it’s difficult to extricate it from that what we’ve seen accompany it countless times.

Come on, you all know what I’m talking about.

“What? Don’t tell me YOU don’t think of heads exploding like fireworks when you hear Pomp and Circumstance! Name one other life-changing moment could you possibly associate it with…you weirdo.”

The Firebird Suite – Igor Stravinsky

Fantasia 2000 comes to a close with a piece that has some emotional resonance if you know your history. You might remember from my first Fantasia review that Igor Stravinsky was disappointed with how Rite of Spring turned out, especially since he was a big admirer of Walt Disney and really wanted to do more projects with him beforehand. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that they picked his premiere ballet to end the movie on decades later. After all these years, Disney worked hard to do right by Stravinsky – with a few twists, though. Instead of a balletic retelling of Russian folktales involving kidnapped princesses and immortal sorcerers, we have a fantastical allegory for the circle of life.

No, not that circle of life.

A lone elk who I’m fairly convinced is the Great Prince of the Forest walks through the forest in the dead of winter. With his breath, he awakens the spirit of the woods and one of the most beautiful characters Disney has ever created, the Spring Sprite.

I. Love. This character. Her design is gorgeous, shifting from a shimmery opalescent blue as she steps out of the water into an eternally flowing fount of live greenery spreading from her hair in her wake. Wherever she moves, grass, flowers, and trees blossom, fulfilling the idea of a springtime goddess more than Disney’s own Goddess of Spring ever did. The Sprite was a massive influence in developing my art style, particularly in her face and expressive eyes, and I used to draw her a lot. Visit any relative of mine and chances are you’ll find a picture of her by me hanging up on a wall somewhere in their house. Yet there’s far more to her character than just a pretty representation of nature; there’s plenty of curiosity, spunk, determination, and a drive for creativity. I love her frustrated expression when she’s dissatisfied with the tiny flower she sculpts out of the ground and how her face lights up when she morphs it into a buttercup as tall as she is.

The Sprite paints the forest with all the colors of the wind (mostly green) until she reaches a mountain that isn’t affected by her magic. Perplexed, she climbs it until she finds a large hunched over rock figure – or is it an egg? – standing inside. She reaches out to touch it and…

The Sprite has awakened her counterpart, the wrathful and deadly Firebird. Think giant evil phoenix made of smoke, flame and lava. And it goes without saying that seeing this on the biggest screen left quite the terrifying impact. One of the biggest inspirations for this sequence was the eruption of Mount St. Helens (though the shot of the Sprite surveying the breadth of the Firebird’s destruction reminds me far too much of the Australian bushfires going on) and the sheer horror of nature’s irrepressible chaos is fully captured here. But the Firebird refuses to settle for merely destroying the Sprite’s handiwork, oh no. It won’t rest until creation itself is consumed, and the Sprite is reduced to a powerless mite as she scrabbles to escape the Firebird’s relentless pursuit of her. Try as she might, however, the towering monster corners and devours her in one fell swoop.

The forest is reduced to gray ashes in the wake of the Firebird’s rampage, but the Great Prince has survived. Once again he brings the Sprite to life with his breath, only this time she is tiny and weak (the animation of her slowly developing from the ash into her huddled ragged form is breathtaking). Now, I didn’t think I’d get emotional revisiting a small part of a single movie I’ve rewatched countless times before but viewing this through a mature eye combined with the beauty of the Firebird Suite’s climax and its timely message has caused me to see it in a new light:

The Sprite is utterly broken by what she’s been through and the destruction she carelessly caused. She’s lost all faith in herself and in the idea of returning the forest to what it once was. Even so, the Prince gently insists on carrying her on his antlers to the remains of their favorite cherry blossom tree. Where her tears fall, grass shoots begin to sprout. This fills the Sprite with hope, and she soars into the air becoming one with the sky and rains life down on the forest. New trees burst from the earth. The air is filled with leaves and pollen and new life flowing from her essence. The Sprite’s joy and power grow so strong that she even encircles the Firebird’s mountain in all her verdant glory. Life and creation overcome death and destruction. It’s not Night on Bald Mountain/Ave Maria, but it’s close.

And unfortunately, that’s the biggest problem Fantasia 2000 has.

While working on the original Fantasia, a storyman made the mistake of referring to the work they were doing in “the cartoon medium” in Walt’s presence. Walt turned on him and snapped “This is NOT ‘the cartoon medium’. It should not be limited to cartoons. We have worlds to conquer.”

And conquer they did…just not the way Walt intended.

The point I’m trying to make is Walt was breaking new ground and experimenting with things nobody ever tried when it came to Fantasia. While those risks were initially deemed a failure, it eventually gained the recognition it deserved from the animation and filmmaking community. Any attempt to recreate the magic of Fantasia is no small feat. But rather than taking new risks that not even the first film dared, the studio opted to adhere to Fantasia’s formula with pieces that recall if not flat out copy from the original segments. I hesitate to call it a pale imitation or cash grab however because this was done for the art much more than the money (though Eisner was probably hoping it would bring in some bank). There’s even a little bit of depth to it: while the first Fantasia had themes of differing natures in conflict – light vs. dark, fire vs. water, etc. – Fantasia 2000’s theme is accidental but brilliantly meta: CGI vs. traditional animation, a conflict Disney would become very familiar with in the decade following the film’s release. In some ways, it reminds me of Epcot’s genesis. The driving force behind it was long gone, but the attempt to bring it to life as close to the original vision as possible is still much appreciated.

For all my gripes, I really do enjoy Fantasia 2000. Perhaps not on the same level as its predecessor, but it has its moments, oh yes. And believe me, as far as Disney sequels go, you could do far, far, far worse than this one. Fantasia 2000 is Fantasia’s kid sister mimicking its beloved older sibling in an attempt to show it can be cool like the big kids too. But hey, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this review, please consider supporting this misfit on Patreon. Patreon supporters receive great perks such as extra votes for movie reviews, movie requests, early sneak-peeks and more! If I can hit my goal of $100 a month, I can go back to weekly tv series reviews. As of now, I’m only $20 away! Special thanks to Amelia Jones, Gordhan Rajani and Sam Minden for their contributions! I’ll see you in a few weeks when I and review the 1959 Disney animated classic, Sleeping Beauty!

Artwork by Charles Moss.

Screencaps from animationscreencaps.com

Yes, I know The Lion King and Lady and the Tramp ended with the titular characters having babies, but was there anyone out there apart from Eisner who demanded there be sequels to those films that focused on their offspring?

January Review: Fantasia 2000 Last year I talked about Fantasia, which is not just one of my favorite Disney movies, but one of my favorite movies in general.

[spectral-musette]

Finished Thrawn: Treason a couple of days ago, and typed up some thoughts (cause I don’t know anyone else who’s read it and I just wanted vent them somewhere).

Overall, I think I still liked Alliances the most of the new Thrawn books, but Treason (or as I’ve been calling it, Threason) was also really enjoyable.

(Spoilers to follow for the current Thrawn series, Outbound Flight, and the end of Rebels)

(Disclaimers:

While I think Thrawn is a fascinating character, I’m not under any illusions that he is heroic, good, or admirable just because he’s written as the protagonist of the current series of novels. To me, Thrawn is interesting because I don’t see him as the kind of villain who convinces himself he’s actually good; it’s just that, in his calculations, morals and ideals are valued below expediency. He doesn’t think he’s right, only that he’s necessary. When you’ve compromised morality and justice and sworn allegiance to someone like Palpatine for what you believe to be the greater good, what’s left? What remains of your own soul when you’ve made yourself a monster just to fight off worse monsters? None of the novels have gotten to that point yet, but I hope TZ will eventually take us there.

Also, I know Outbound Flight is considered “Legends”, but I think it gives a lot of insight into Thrawn’s character. At his panel at SWCC, Timothy Zahn said he always writes as if all his old books could still become canon, so I’m assuming that the events of Outbound Flight continue to factor into TZ’s development of the character.)

I think the title maybe oversold the angle that we might see Thrawn working against Imperial interests. Apparently, he’s much too committed and careful for that. Acts of treason certainly came into play in the plot, but not committed by Thrawn. He doesn’t even lie to Palpatine – he omits, carefully, sometimes, but rarely that.

I discovered at SWCC that fandom was pretty hyped about the return of Eli Vanto. I had admittedly been rather tepid on Eli in the first novel in the series. Any good things Eli did were always tempered by the fact that I couldn’t quite forget that this was a young man who quite freely decided that the Imperial Navy was the career path for him. In Treason, I found it much easier to like Eli now that he’s no longer an Imperial officer. Seeing him finding his footing on the Chiss battleship was interesting, and I liked the soft beginning of romantic feelings between him and Vah’nya (the Force-Sensitive Chiss navigator who, at 22, is the oldest known Chiss to ever maintain her abilities). I was going to say “hints of feelings”, but I think it was a bit stronger than that? Her flirtation was downright overt at times (“You were not merely coming to see me? Too Sad.” Lol, get it Vah’nya), and Eli did tell her that he’d die for her, so that seems like a pretty solid foundation? I’m a little worried about them, though. What I recall about Chiss society from Outbound Flight and Survivor’s Quest is that it’s pretty class-bound and that they don’t really think much of outsiders. It’s unclear to me if an important asset to the Ascendancy like Vah’nya would be permitted to have a relationship with a non-Chiss.

Much as Assistant Director Ronan (who is just the worst, see below) liked to throw around “traitor” re: Eli, I’m not sure I’m ready to give Eli Imperial Defector status, at least not quite at the same level as the people who joined the Rebellion. Eli has yet to actually work against the Empire. I feel like Eli’s background (being from Wild Space) did affect the way he perceived the Empire as just the same old Galactic Republic going by a new name, but after the things he experienced in the first Thrawn novel, Eli at least knows very well that the Empire uses slave labor. But I guess at this point he’s buying Thrawn’s rationale that the military strength of the Empire is keeping the Grysk, the spooky big bad from the edges of the galaxy, out of that part of the galaxy? It would be interesting to see how Eli’s perceptions of the Empire might change after the destruction of Alderaan.

Leading up to the release, I saw some promotion for the novel, I think on twitter, saying that a “new” female Chiss character was being introduced, Admiral Ar’alani. My initial response was, uuuuuuuuum wasn’t she in Outbound Flight, though? And I know that’s not technically canon anymore, but, wasn’t she also mentioned in the first new Thrawn novel? So actually, not really new at all? BUT Vah’nya and little Un’hee are both new and I love them, so there absolutely ARE new female Chiss characters in Treason… just… not Ar’alani. Though we do see a good bit more of her in this book than we have previously.

And I really enjoyed Ar’alani as a character in Treason. She’s a great foil to Thrawn to directly demonstrate that no, all the Chiss are not Like That. She’s honorable and cunning, and she’s quite passionate, quick-tempered but also quick to move past her anger. I liked that we got to see her being fierce and indomitable, but she was also able to be so soft and comforting to a rescued child without ever undermining her authority or seeming remotely awkward or uncomfortable about it. It was fun to see her get so angry and annoyed at Thrawn, but be able to put it aside and work with him because she knows it’s the best course of action.(There are points from Faro’s point of view when Ar’alani just goes off on Thrawn in the Chiss language aboard the bridge of the Chimaera, and I’m DYING to know what she’s saying to him). I was kinda getting a vibe that the two of them possibly were exes before the scene where Eli has the same thought -

Eli Vanto, on the bridge of a Chiss warship, during battle: I Think My Admirals Used to Bang.

(Verbatim, it’s “he wondered at the history and the relationship between Ar’alani and Thrawn”)

And it kinda solidified for me in the farewell between them:

[“Someday, Mitth’raw’nuruodo, you’ll overthink and overplan, and it will come crashing down all around you. When that happens, I hope someone is there to lift you back to your feet.”

“You, perhaps?”

Ar’alani shakes her head. Her expression holds regret, perhaps even pain. “I very much fear I will never see you again.”]

(I MEAN, wow okay, why don’t you two just make out right there in the turbolift, then?)

(And I get that you could totally read the dynamic another way, but that’s how it comes across to me)

I don’t recall their dynamic being that uh… charged? in Outbound Flight? But Outbound Flight was a bit more focused on Maris’s hero-worship/crush on Thrawn (and admittedly it’s been a while since I read it).

Speaking of Outbound Flight, the fact that Ar’alani has held the rank of Admiral since before the Clone Wars tells us that she definitely is not a young woman. Even if she rocketed through the ranks on a combination of extraordinary ability and family connections, it seems like she’d be at least in her 30’s at that point (and that’s really low-balling it), and that was 25+ years ago. Granted, we don’t know much about Chiss lifespans or how they show their age, but no mention is made of her age at all. The only descriptor I could find of Ar’alani when paging back through Outbound Flight (aside from the typical “blue-skinned”/“glowing red eyes” Chiss stuff) was “resplendent”, so I’ve decided that’s her main attribute and she might be slightly immortal.

Eli makes note of the fact that she has the same name-structure as the navigators (two-part instead of three-part, never abbreviated to a core name). This can’t just be a gendered thing – Eli is supposed to be good at noticing patterns in things and would SURELY have realized that (plus, Feesa in Survivor’s Quest is a lady with a three-part name) – but I wonder if the answer is just: Ar’alani was a navigator when she was a child. She knows an awful lot about the navigators’ abilities (even Thrawn doesn’t know much about “Second Sight”), seems particularly sympathetic to and protective of them, and both Vah’nya and Un’hee seem particularly attached to her. Force-sensitive Ar’alani is an interesting prospect!

I’m not sure I’d say I ship Thrawn and Ar’alani, exactly, but the idea of him being her ex-lover who keeps calling her up and asking for favors even though he’s off the grid doing CRAZY SHIT is amusing to me. I’m not sure if I like the idea of them having been together when they were young (in a military academy, maybe) and splitting up for political reasons (differences in class/family affiliations) or if I prefer to think they had a thing when he was her junior officer, or what. Mostly I think it makes an interesting sunken ship, as it were. She probably deserves better anyway (more on Thrawn’s personal problems in a bit).

Wow that turned into “just blather on about Admiral Ar’alani”, didn’t it? Anyway, she’s a great character and I like her a lot.

To move on to another character, Assistant Director Ronan is, as I said, the worst. I’m pretty sure Thrawn’s not wrong about Vader straight up murdering this dude, given the opportunity. And I mean, there are two types of characters Vader will murder: Ones you Really Don’t Want him to, and ones that you… do? Ronan is the latter. Instead, Thrawn is using him to let Ar’alani feed very select info back to the Empire about the Chiss. So, cape-wearing, Krennic-worshipping Ronan thinks the Emperor is petty and more interested in watching his subordinates squabble than providing effective leadership and also apparently hates Force-users (declaring himself an enemy to Thrawn if he’s working against Palpatine’s goals to eradicate them). And while I’m sure the Chiss will maintain the secrecy and protection around their navigators as well as they can, I’m very uncomfortable with the idea of this guy anywhere near my tiny blue daughters.

And I’m pretty sure Thrawn is not working with Palpatine to kill Force-sensitives in the Ascendancy. If he was, this would be a dark prospect given Eli’s project to collate data about the navigators! But as far as I can tell at this point, Thrawn’s goals for the navigators are the same as Ar’alani’s – more navigators who maintain their abilities longer are a benefit to the Ascendancy. And while navicomputer technology is certainly more sustainable, it seems like if the Ascendancy wanted it, that’s certainly something they would be able to obtain. Possibly they’re just being traditionalist about it (using navigators because they’ve always used navigators) and possibly it’s partly to contain the Grysk – a navicomputer doesn’t have an expiration date like a captured Chiss navigator does. Maybe Force-aided navigation has advantages we haven’t fully explored (or I’m just forgetting some of the ones we have).

I think TZ has tended to write Thrawn as more sympathetic over time (not that this is a recent development; see Outbound Flight) so it becomes hard to reconcile the version of Thrawn in Rebels to the current Thrawn in the novels, even though the events are tied up quite closely. Probably because Rebels Thrawn is drawn mostly from the less-developed version of the character in the original Thrawn novels, and mostly I think because TZ didn’t have any input in writing Thrawn’s episodes.

What seems to be an on-going thread in the current novels is Thrawn’s tendency to isolate himself. I think he’s actually pretty fond of Eli (insofar as he’s capable of things like “fondness”). And while I’m sure Eli can be an asset to the Ascendancy, with Eli serving Ar’alani, Thrawn also no longer has to deal with Eli, who views him as a good commander and a brilliant, admirable person, holding him accountable for any actions that might contradict that view. He holds Eli at arm’s length throughout the story in Treason; in part you can chalk this up to the urgency of the mission, but it strikes me that he’s actively pushing Eli away. Eli never gets much of a moment with Thrawn, no renewal of camaraderie. Eli’s angry about it at the beginning, perceiving it as a snub, but by the end he’s more resigned to it. It sucks to love someone who doesn’t seem to care about you.

(But I’m not sure Thrawn doesn’t care about Eli, I think he’s just being careful to let Eli get that impression.)

And Thrawn does the same with Commodore Faro, recommending her for a major promotion out of his immediate circle. She’s deeply loyal to him and admires him, and he is sure to remove her from his sphere of influence. Always to the benefit of the removed party (Eli is thriving in the Ascendancy, and I’m sure Faro will do well in her new command), of course. But they’re also gone. He doesn’t have to be privy to their disappointment, disillusionment, and he doesn’t have to be responsible for their lives or deaths. Thrawn is actively denying himself the opportunity to be cared for, and maybe keeping himself from getting attached beyond a certain point as well.

Because once upon a time, before the Clone Wars, Thrawn was a person who liked being admired, who deeply valued idealism in others, who loved his brother.

Does the self-isolation go back to his brother’s death, or is it part of his approach to serving Palpatine? If he doesn’t live like a person with feelings and loved ones, is it easier to tolerate the suffering he’s causing to other people with feelings and loved ones?

(And in the aftermath of the Rebels finale – assuming Thrawn survived the Purgill attack, and there’s no reason he MUST have – what happens when he is really truly isolated, with nothing between him and oblivion but an angry teenage Jedi apprentice who utterly loathes him? And… some space whales.)

[do-what-the-knight-tells-you]

Broadchurch: the short story collections. Part 1

Available over here.

The first book contains four short stories, all of which take place before S2, so if you want to read this, it might be nice before re-watching S2.

1- “The End Is Where it Begins”, Ellie, After S1: how she comes to transfer precints and end up as the traffic cop we see in S02E01.

2- “The Letter”, Maggie, a few days before S2: STruggles with Echo finances, works on a story, thinks about resigning.

3- “Old Friends”, Jocelyn, 10-20 years before S1: insight into her past, her career, her character, Jack Marshall, and what was going on in town around the time Danny and Tom were born.

4- “Over the Side”, Tess, months before S1 (three days into the Sandbrook case): a twenty-four hour window into that case, her perspective on the case, her affair, and Alec’s behavior/character/etc at that time. This is the night Pippa’s body is found, from her perspective.

I’ve included summaries, my notes, excerpts, and other Things Of Interest under the readmore. this book was interesting, short, and very worth the read, for me!

1. Ellie- Between S1 and S2.

“Going back into uniform was Ellie's choice, but it usually means demotion. It’s shorthand for disgrace. As far as Ellie is concerned, the uniform helps. Her collar and cravat help her hold he head up high, and she walks easily in regulation flat shoes. This is a move sideways,  not downward; she’s still a Sergeant. Her salary stays the same, and that’s important. Ellie’s staring down the barrel of single parenthood, paying for the childcare Joe used to do for free. Resigning would mean sacrificing her pension, and with a good fifteen years of service left in her, that’s not an option. “But there’s more to it than the money. It doesn’t feel right to go back into CID until Joe’s been sentenced. She’s never told anyone this, but it feels like that way, she’ll be able to put Danny behind her. But going into uniform, that felt right. Ellie understands now what Hardy meant about atonement. [Look! Thinking about him!] by serving another community, she can atone for what Joe did to her own. Leaving the force, taking a sabbatical, all the other things tat people told her to do: none of these was an option. This move is, above all else, a massive /fuck you/ to Joe.  Fifteen years, Ellie's been on the force. When he took Danny’s life, he took Ellie's best friend, their community, and her eldest son. She will not let him have her career as well.”

And in the car with her new loudmouth partner: “after ten minutes she finds herself yearning for Alec Hardy’s brooding and sulks. At least he was quiet. She wonders where Hardy is now: under a doctor’s observation somewhere, she hopes, contemplating the salvage of his own career from the confines of a hospital bed.”

In general her new partner is a bit of a sexist good-old-boy who thinks the problem with youth today is the welfare state... She thinks the problem is lack of outreach and enrichment. She is struggling to get everything in line in her life.

Tom’s voice breaks while they are separated. And her heart breaks to have missed that.

She successfully overrides her partner, follows her instincts, and saves a family, some kids, from a domestic situ while on the job… and then falls to fucking pieces after. Realizes she doesn’t have the emotional fortitude to handle cases without breaking, right now. Calls in sick, and then transfers to traffic.  “She is bitterly aware of the irony that while she has gained her colleagues’ respect, she now understands that she doesn’t deserve it. It’s either this or leave the force, and then Joe’s won. She is hanging onto her career by her fingernails, marking time until his plea next week. “Ellie has always prided herself on putting people before anything else but life as a black rat is about enforcing the letter of the law, or rather its numbers. She’s reduced to the digits and codes of traffic policing: stopping distances, speed limits, milligrams of alcohol and penalty points. Even her fellow traffic officers, infamous for their pedantry, started calling her robocop after he first shift. “Inside Ellie's locker, there’s a photograph of Tom and Fred before the blast. She marks a tally on the picture’s white border, inky scratches in the gloss, to count down the days until Joe stands in the dock at Wessex County court and says the magic word that will give her back her son.”

Aw hell, Ellie.

2- Maggie- A few days before S2 begins. 

Budget cuts are crippling the Echo. Finally, she is ready to submit her resignation in protest, but a story she runs down locally (to do with land use, and, eventually, marijuana), turns out to be leveragable to do some good in town, force some good change, and she figures that's still worth doing, so she'll hang in a little longer.

No mention of Lil, so, still not sure when they broke up/if they are split... oh, and a passing mention of Jocelyn's home. Just, that it is there.

3- Jocelyn- Her story is set farther back, but is fascinating. It's set partially at least twenty, twenty five years pre-S1, and then partially right around the time that Danny Latimer was born. 

It's a little window into who Jocelyn was at that time and what she did. Talks about her outlook on her career, her relationship with her mother, her habit of spending no more than four bank holidays a year in Broadchurch, and staying in London, her preference, her work, the rest of the time.

Also, it turns out she represented Jack Marshall and convinced him to plead guilty so that he would get a shorter jail sentence and get back to the Rowena faster, which he did, and then married her.

Jocelyn was quite reserved even then, but they kept in touch and Jack confided in her after the accident that took his son's life and caused their split, that he needed a new place to go... She suggested Broadchurch because she knew the newsstand was up for sale.

The last scene of the short story is her visiting him at the newsstand. She's noticed her vision is starting to go, she's watching the Latimers with their three-day-old baby boy walk along the beach.

There are references to lots of things and folks there in town, throughout the story, the sea brigade, Oliver, the fact that she's lost touch with Maggie long since and she's a bit grateful for that because otherwise Maggie would surely have sniffed out her connection to Jack and outed Jack's past to everyone. Oh, and Ellie is 10 days overdue and fit to burst with Tom and so Beth (Beth and Ellie had become friends in their pre/antenatal classes) had been dropping by with Danny over there, hoping that holding Danny would maybe induce labor.

... and finally.

4- Tess- Day 3 of the Sandbrook case, well before S1

I didn't look ahead, I totally had no idea that this was coming. But this is Tess' side of a 24-hour period from the Sandbrook case. I'm going to sum some of it, and then I'm probably just going to end up posting big chunks of it. Or you can go read it yourself. That's good too. XD

It's April 2012, day 3 after the Sandbrook girls disappear. She and the other DS she's cheating with were getting it on, for what was clearly not the first time, in the backseat of his car. Made a comment about the fact it next time they would take it back to the hotel, doing it in the car was foolish and uncomfortable. Which also seems to imply that this is a regular thing. Tess thinks a bit on the fact that Dave is present with her in a way Alec isn't, though she feels guilty about all of it.

The cheating is a release for her, like other people might smoke a cigarette or go for a run. She knows Alec is really struggling with how close in age Pippa is to Daisy. 

"Alec works sixteen-hour days, forgets to eat, and gets angry. She hasn’t seen him since they got the shout two days ago. He’s sleeping on the sofa in his office, if he’s sleeping at all. At least Tess got four hours in her own bed last night and a shower in her own bathroom. Daisy was staying with a friend; Tess and Alec rely a lot on the generosity of friends’ parents in the first few chaotic days of a case. The house was too quiet this morning. It’s strange; Alec can stay away for days and Tess feels nothing but relief, but Daisy sleeping somewhere else feels wrong."

Tess knows what Alec is like on these cases. Her affair with what's-his-face went on much longer than the case itself. I’d guess months, at least, prior to this story.

"She hasn’t seen Alec since last night. Tess hopes he’s not in the office. The chances are small; as Senior Investigating Officer, he likes to work the field as much as possible. They used to work so well together – professionally, at least, she’s never been more compatible with another officer, and that includes Dave – but at the moment she can’t concentrate if Alec’s even in the same building. Dave sits opposite her at work, and Alec’s got the corner office just behind them. Every time he walks past, she shrivels with guilt and with contempt for her husband. Guilt over the adultery, contempt that Alec can’t see it.

[Lends more weight to Hardy’s perception of the affair, as we saw it in the S1 novelization-- namely that it was shameful, that he felt ashamed to have been cheated on. I bet she says/said something nasty, along these lines, and he internalizes it]

“If she and Dave so much as brushed past each other at a crime scene, he’d notice. That’s the problem in a nutshell: the tunnel vision that makes him a brilliant detective means he hasn’t seen Tess – really seen her – in years."

[Oh God, I see where this is going. This is the night he finds Pippa, isn't it?]

‘Where’s Alec?’ Tess asks Chrissie, a fellow DS who’s already got three empty mugs on her desk. Chrissie creases her brow. As always, whenever Tess refers to her husband by his first name, it takes her colleague a few seconds to get who she means. But what else can she call him? She can’t call him Hardy and she’s damned if she’ll call him the boss or the guvnor.

[”Guvnor”? is this a British thing, or personal nickname? if the latter, Ellie would laugh herself sick over it, if she ever found out.]

“Chrissie checks a memo on her screen. 

“‘He’s overseeing a fingertip search of the river Sandbrook.’ 

“‘The Sandbrook?’ echoes Tess. It’s right on the edge of their patch, a slow-flowing river with great stretches straying miles from the nearest road and barely accessible on foot. ‘On what basis?’ 

“‘On the basis of it’s the only open space left on our ground that we haven’t covered, and there’s still no trace of either girl,’ says Chrissie grimly, her eyes travelling to the clock. Tess flinches at the reminder of how far behind they are, and boots up her computer, not wanting to waste another minute. When Dave comes in, she looks up with a cool hello...”

She thinks about potential leads in the case, she interacts with Dave a little bit, mostly through facial expressions. And then

“Tess is giving Dave one more warning look when his phone rings. His face loses its colour as he listens; Tess pulls out her earplugs but the call is already over. 

“‘That was the boss,’ says Dave, pushing his chair away from his desk, car keys in hand. ‘They’ve found the body of a young girl in the Sandbrook.’ 

“South Mercia University Hospital is across the dual carriageway from the police station, eight storeys of white concrete and foggy windows. 

“‘I knew it’d be murder,’ says Dave, as they get into a lift marked STAFF ONLY. ‘I knew from the first shout, but it doesn’t stop you hoping, does it?’

“‘You always hope,’ says Tess. ‘But I can’t remember hoping like this for a long time.’ Dave reaches for her hand and circles his thumb on her palm. 

“‘You OK, babe?’ His tenderness melts her, but she can only squeeze his fingers in reply. She can’t afford to soften now. The lift spits them out two floors underground and Tess and Dave walk through a dingy yellow corridor lit with flickering strip lights. It is maybe ten degrees colder here than in the station. This is not the way to the viewing room, where victims’ families see their loved ones still beneath a white sheet. This long walk is for the professionals, the dealers in death. There is nothing beautiful down here: a few laundry bags piled in a trolley, a mop and bucket and a yellow CLEANING IN PROGRESS sign. Tess tries very hard not to think about what gets mopped up down here. 

“‘I don’t understand why it’s just the one body,’ she says. ‘Nothing about this case makes sense.’ 

“‘Just the one body so far,’ Dave corrects her. There’s another fire door ahead; he lengthens his stride to open it for her. Tess isn’t used to these little chivalrous touches. She is astonished to find that she quite likes them. 

“‘Did Alec say if he was staying to continue the search?’ 

“‘He pretty much hung up.’ Dave bites his lip. ‘I’m sure he knows, sometimes, the way he talks to me.’ Tess shakes her head. 

“‘That’s how he talks to everyone.’ But she shakes her shoulders, as though to recalibrate her body language, and by the time they get to the end of the corridor, there’s a big space between her and Dave. When – if – they go public, it must be a long, long time after this case has been put to bed. A technician in mint scrubs is waiting behind a glass door; she punches a number into the keypad to let them in. 

“‘Five minutes,’ says the technician. Her voice is steady but she looks like she’s been crying. ‘Dr Kendall’s just preparing her now. You can wait up here.’ 

“Tess and Dave follow the technician on tiptoe up a short flight of stairs. In the viewing gallery, there’s a row of seats, almost like in a cinema, and the blind is down on the panoramic window so it looks like a blank blue screen. There are a handful of flattened paper bags on the table. Waiting for them is Sanjeev, a newish DC. He’s not long out of uniform so he won’t have worked a case like this before. Tess hasn’t spent much time with him, but she knows Alec really rates him. There’s a weird, stale, boggy smell and for a moment Tess retches, thinking it’s the dead-body-rotting smell she dreads so much. It takes her a few seconds to recognise the smell of stagnant river water, and that it’s coming from Sanj. 

“‘Sarge,’ says Sanj to Tess. ‘How comes you’re not upstairs with the boss?’ Tess doesn’t bother to hide her confusion. 

“‘What’s he doing upstairs?’ 

“‘Don’t panic,’ says Sanj. Immediately Tess starts to panic. ‘It’s just a precaution. He got into difficulties in the water.’

“Tess is bewildered. ‘What was he even doing in the water?’ 

“‘He found her,’ says Sanj, dipping his head. ‘Pippa’s body. He carried her out. You know what he’s like, he stalks off on his own, all impatient, no one can ever work fast enough for him. We didn’t even know he’d gone until he’d got her out. He reckons he went under a few times. He took in a lot of water and they’ve got to be careful about it being in his lungs, or Weil’s disease or something.’ Sanj looks down at his feet; he flexes them, and his shoes squelch. Tess is rooted to the spot, horrified at what Alec must have been through today. She is torn. Instinct urges her to go and check on him; after fourteen years of marriage, you can’t just turn off the concern like a tap. But he’ll be in good hands. He probably won’t even want her, he hates being fussed over. And with him indisposed, she’s the senior officer. 

“She’s still debating with herself when the blinds go up and the theatre is revealed in all its spot-lit, chrome glory, and there, splayed on the slab is— Tess’s vision blurs. There’s a whole team of people, but the pathologist and his team, in their scrubs, are reduced to green blobs. Tess can’t look at anything but Pippa Gillespie’s body. It doesn’t look human. It has been completely bloated by the water; her face is swollen and grey, her limbs pasty and distended. Water has matted her hair and dirt outlines her nails. Tess thinks of the picture they have on the board, that perfect little girl, playing tennis, golden skin, long brown hair, and it is all that she can do to stand. She’s seen bodies destroyed by water before, but never one this young. Tears try to push their way out of her eyes but Tess pushes back harder. She’ll cry later, in front of Dave, but she won’t fall apart in public. She gives silent thanks that Pippa can be identified forensically. Her mother will never have to see her like this. 

“She steps up to the microphone, forcing her voice to hold steady. 

“‘DS Tess Henchard,’ she says. ‘Is there anything you can tell us just by looking at her?’ Dr Kendall looks up to the gallery and nods hello. 

“‘Only that she’s been in the water for at least two days.’ There’s a tenderness in his voice at odds with the gleaming surgical instruments in the tray behind him. ‘So that narrows down your time of death, I suppose. As for the cause … I’ll be frank with you, Sergeant. There’s no obvious wound. Water covers death’s tracks. It gets into the body through the orifices and starts decomposing from the inside as well as out. It affects the tox report. We will work quickly, and to the highest standard, but I can’t guarantee that we’ll find the cause of death. Let’s talk in the morning.’ 

“‘Christ.’ She pushes the heels of her hands onto closed eyes, but the image of Pippa’s face is imprinted on the back of her eyelids. She looks to the door; she ought to check on Alec, for form’s sake as much as anything. Dave doesn’t need to be told what she’s thinking. 

“‘I’ve got this,’ he says. ‘You go to him.’ It is possibly the kindest thing anyone’s ever done for her. He places a hand on her arm, a light gesture but it’s not lost on Sanj. Tess notes his double take, then watches as the horror below wipes the suspicion from his mind, for now at least. She leaves Dave and Sanj to watch the post-mortem. 

“In the lift, her legs go. She has pulled herself to her feet by the time she gets to the front desk. The receptionist points her towards Accident and Emergency. Tess concentrates on putting one foot in front of the other, reading the signs, breathing through her mouth, and trying to close her mind’s eye to the sight of Pippa Gillespie’s body, but the image is imprinted on her for ever. Her badge helps her to jump the queue – she can’t help thinking she gets more respect from the triage receptionist as a Detective Sergeant than she would as a wife – but it still takes her the best part of an hour to find out that Alec has discharged himself. She boils with rage – if he’s gone back to the scene with his health in tatters, she’ll kill him. She asks to see the registrar who treated him; another half-hour wait. 

“She calls Daisy, who’s still at Molly’s. They’re lucky she’s popular. If she has dinner with a different friend every night, that can take them ten days into a case. After that, repeat requests usually get awkward. This time, though, everyone knows the case they’re working on. Friends are falling over themselves to have Daisy for the evening, offering sleepovers, weekend shifts, school pickups. ‘Whatever helps you find those girls’ is the phrase they hear again and again. Tess hopes the goodwill continues into the murder inquiry. Lately, she’s been wondering if the hospitality would extend to a single mother trying to juggle shifts around work and a new relationship. 

“‘It’ll be a little while yet,’ says Tess. ‘Home in time to see you to bed, though.’ ‘Have you found her?’ says Daisy. She has become fixated on Pippa Gillespie; she knows they’re the same age, and she can see what the case is already doing to her parents, three days in. Tess feels a pang for the innocent days when Daisy thought that all they did was direct traffic. Tess and Alec naturally never tell Daisy anything before it’s released to the media. ‘Not yet, sweetie,’ she says. ‘Be good for Molly’s mum.’ 

“Eventually, the registrar comes in, a young man smelling of coffee and sweat. There’s a comet of blood on his white coat. ‘Mr Hardy discharged himself against my recommendation,’ he says. ‘I’m telling you because I’m concerned for his health. Physically, he was fine. I mean, the water doesn’t seem to have done any lasting damage. But he’s suffering from acute stress, and there are more tests we’d like to run. With anyone else I’d recommend that he take time off work, but …’ He spreads his hands. Tess doesn’t know whether he’s implying that the case is more important than one man’s health, or whether he’s simply got the measure of Alec already and knows his advice would fall on deaf ears. 

“There’s a voicemail on her phone from Alec’s second in command, DS Beauman, wishing the boss well and telling him that they’ve got SOCO in now. Alec hasn’t gone back to the crime scene. So where is he? Alec is not at home and he’s not answering his phone. Tess sees Daisy off to bed and opens a bottle of red. She searches Google maps on her iPad, scrolling up and down the length of the Sandbrook looking for patterns, clues, inspiration, until she feels dizzy. 

“She calls the incident room; Sanj answers and immediately asks after Alec. So he’s not there. Dave’s working the scene at the Sandbrook; she texts him to see if Alec’s turned up, then again to see if they’ve found anything new. Both questions come back negative. She deletes the message thread out of habit even though this time there’s nothing incriminating. 

“She’s really starting to worry now. This disappearance is completely unprecedented. She pictures him collapsed behind the wheel somewhere en route to the Sandbrook, and she works herself up into a fury. For all his dedication to his job, he neglects what ought to be his number one priority: making sure he’s in good enough health to do it. There’s real fear under her concern, though, and she’s about to call the hospital when she hears his car on the driveway. It’s 10 p.m. 

“As his key turns in the door, she’s waiting for him in the hall. The sight of him makes her stagger. He’s wearing a grey tracksuit, the police-station-issue kind they give to people whose clothes have been seized as evidence. The trousers are too short and his ankles are exposed, making him look ridiculous. His hair is plastered down.

“She stopped touching Alec a while ago--”

[Oh god, I remember that comment in the first novelization, that Miller is the first person to take his hand in so long he couldn’t remember...]

“-- it started to feel like betraying Dave-- and he doesn’t seem to have noticed, or to miss it.”

[Oh God.]

“She hesitates before going to hug him, and when she opens her arms, Alec folds his and shakes his head. Dave wouldn’t do this, is her first reflex thought. 

“‘Where’ve you been? she asks. It was supposed to come out concerned but it sounds derogatory.

“Alec pinches the bridge of his nose. He closes his eyes nd lets them stay that way. ‘Driving.’

“It’s five hours since he discharged himself from hospital. The thought of him going round and around the ring road in these clothes tugs at the leftovers of her love.

“‘Oh, Alec. What about your clothes?’

“He nods to a clear plastic bag on the doorstep. INside, weeds are wrapped around clothes so muddied that Tess has to think back to what he was wearing when he left for work this morning. His new blue suit. They’ll have to throw it out. Even if the can get it clean, she knows he’ll never be able to wear it again.

“When he pushes past her into the house, Tess can smell the soap from the police station showers on him.

“‘D’you wan to talk about it?’ She pours Alec the last of the wine. He looks into its dark red surface like he’s seeing through it into something else. 

“’I saw her in the mortuary,’ says Tess, ‘It must have been awful for you.’ Alec doesn’t even blink. Dave or no Dave, Tess recognises a man who needs human touch. She puts her hands on his shoulders. When they first got together, she used to massage his shoulder blades at the end of every day, feeling the knots unravel under her fingers.

[An interesting detail.]

“He used to say she had the magic touch, that no one else could relax him like she did. Now, he shrugs her off.

“‘ I’m going to check on Daisy.’

“Tess follows him upstairs and they stand at Daisy’s open bedroom door for a while. She is asleep under a garland of IKEA fairy lights, watched over by a peeling Taylor Swift poster. The tweenage sneer she wears all day has vanished. Her lips are an open rose; her brow is smooth. The difference between their perfect sleeping daughter and the deformed corpse of Pippa Gillespie hits Tess in the guts.

“‘Is she breathing?’ Alec asks suddenly, an octave higher than his usual register. ‘I can’t see her moving.’ Before Tess understands what’s happening, he’s kneeling at Daisy’s bedside. He used to do this when she was a baby, leap out of bed to check she was still alive. Tess had completely forgotten about it until now.

[That’s interesting, does he have past trauma with stuff like that? seems like he already had dead-kid PTSD BEFORE he went into the river after Pippa Gillespie. poor sucker...]

“’She’s not moving!’ He puts his hands on Daisy’s shoulders.

“’Alec, stop it!’ Tess keeps her voice to a whisper even though his was a shout, but it’s too late, he’s already shaking her awake. Daisy’s body flops, but her eyes snap wide.

“‘Daddy, what are you doing?’ She says, as Alec pulls her into a clumsy embrace and buries his face in her nightie.Tess doesn’t have enough hands as she tries to pull him off and calm Daisy at the same time. 

[LET THE MAN HUG HIS DAUGHTER]

“In the end, she has to tug at the collar of his tracksuit top. The pressure on his windpipe seems to knock the panic out of him, and he lets Daisy go.

“‘Out,’ snarls Tess.

“‘I’m sorry, darling.’ Alec walks backwards towards the door. ‘I just needed to make sure you were OK.’

“It only takes Tess a couple of minutes to soothe Daisy back to sleep; she’s confused rather than frightened, still young enough that a few soft words from her mother can chase the monsters away, and Tess hopes that in the morning they’ll be able to dismiss it as a bad dream. She waits until Daisy’s breathing regulates, tucks a stray lock of hair behind her daughter’s ear, and tiptoes out onto the landing.

“Alec sits in the half-dark like a little boy, his knees pulled up to his chest, leaning against the wall as if he has slid down it. Tess kneels next to him on the carpet. His eyes glitter.

“‘I can still see her face,’ he says. He holds out his arms in front if him, palms upwards, elbows bent. ‘I can still feel the weight of her.’ Tess pulls him against her shoulder; he resists for a moment, then collapses and weeps into her neck. This time when she reaches around and starts to work on the muscles in his shoulders, he lets her. His back feels like a sheet of metal; she keeps going until her fingers ache and she starts to feel bone and sinew under his sweatshirt. 

[How is this man constantly portrayed/described as looking like he is shit warmed over, and yet he is one of the most compelling/interesting/attractive characters Tennant has ever played???]

“When Tess shifts position, Alec seems to gather himself, like he’s let out exactly the amount of emotion that was clouding his judgement, and not a drop more. He doesn’t move his head from her breast, but there’s an edge to his voice that almost thrills her.

“‘We’re no longer dealing with a missing persons inquiry. We know where we stand now. We’ll get this.’ Without warning, he leaps to his feet. ‘We know who we’re dealing with now. A monster, someone who can leave a child to rot in a river.’ He starts to pace, his ridiculous bare ankles going backwards and forwards in Tess’s eyeline. ‘This is what we trained for, isn’t it? to get justice for families like this.’

“His new confidence is infectious. Tess often forgets, in all the frustration of living with Alec, what a brilliant detective he is. Or rather, she forgets why he’s so good at his job. It’s the quality that first attracted her to him, that pure, almost old-fashioned belief that good can vanquish evil.

“He is a good detective because, underneath it all, he is a good man.

“It’s going to make leaving him so much harder.”

...

Ouch.

See you next time!

[beardrabbles]

ENVY

rating: k ( !! I didn’t use a swear this time :o )

words: 2,074

characters: short thor part, mostly loki and reader

notes: ( ao3 request; If your queue isn't busy, I hope I can also make a one-shot request! Loki feeling possessive over the reader, especially when she's with his brother or other guys, but he doesn't realise its because he loves her. ) Nice, nice! Never thought I’d get another Loki one, but I’m game! Set in the same-ish AU as ADVISER, where the ship carrying the Asgardians isn’t attacked, and they make it to Earth.

tags: @tarynkauai

“Behold, Y/N! Norway!”

Thor stood before you, arms outstretched and face so brilliantly bright that it could put the sun to shame. If there had been much of a sun to glimpse in the first place. Norway, you had quickly come to realize, was both beautiful and cold. And grey on occasion — same as any other place on Earth, you supposed. But, at the same time, you felt it was far more magical than home. And that was because this little island, this patch of seemingly barren land that stretched for miles and miles, was where the hope of thousands of people rested.

This wasn’t just a spit of land sitting off the northern coast of another island.

In time, it would become home for the people of Asgard.

And beside you, beaming boyishly, was it’s future king. The frigid air around you brought color to your cheeks and nose and made you shiver down to your bones, but you could have warmed yourself on his enthusiasm alone. He was the most hopeful of all, you could tell. It was heartwarming to know that he was so thrilled for his people. Your memory of successful kings was foggy at best, but your heart told you that he would be the best by far.

“It’s beautiful! L—Little cold, though.  .  .” You wrapped yourself up in your arms and sniffed deeply. Thor dropped his own arms to his side and turned to you, a flicker of concern in his one, blue eye.

“I forgot, you’re not used to these temperatures. Are you sure that you want to stay here with us?” His enormous hands found your shoulders, thumbs rubbing small circles into your skin through your heavy jacket. A gesture of concern, nothing more. He was being friendly.

You nodded and smiled.

“Just for a little while! I know I can’t do much to help, but I want to be here. The least I can do is support you guys, right?” You had an abundance of support, and it was about time you put it to use. Thor’s signature grin returned, and he pulled you in tight. You were mashed against his broad chest. His arms enveloped you, sacrificing some of his own warmth for your sake. You couldn’t help but to laugh. You never said it out loud, but he had always reminded you of a large puppy; playful, loyal, soft but still capable of baring his teeth if need be.

“Thank you, Lady Y/N. If I didn’t have my people to tend to, I would show you around a bit more.” He pulled away, finally, and gifted you an apologetic smile. You waved a gloved hand to dismiss it.

“No, go on! It’s fine, really. There, uh.  .  . isn’t much to see, anyway.” You motioned vaguely towards the short grass, thousands of wildflowers and the lone, mountainous formation smack-dab in the middle of the island. Thor chuckled sheepishly.

“But there will be, I promise.”

“I know there will be. It’ll be amazing.” You gave his bearded cheek a little pat before he bowed his head and hurried away. You heard him shouting to someone, another giggle leaving you as he disappeared into a throng of Asgardians. His presence was gone, but you realized with a start that another had taken its place.

You whipped around, finding Loki standing entirely too close. The sudden sight caused you to reel, and — for a moment — you thought you saw a twinge of regret in his expression.

“Did I startle you?” And as quick as it came, that regret was gone. A simpering smirk toyed with his lips instead.

“No, not at all.” You said snippily. Loki’s face continued to shift, and you failed to read him. That was always how it had been. You couldn’t see through him, but he could always see through you. It was odd being transparent around him when he, in turn, refused to so the same. You never complained because who in their right mind would complain to a god about their own behavior? No one that was still alive, you surmised.

“I couldn’t help but to overhear.  .  .”

You suppressed the urge to snort. Of course he had.

“.  .  . you’ll be staying with us?” He stood nonchalantly, hands behind his back, a single brow arched in your direction. You were under the impression that the answer didn’t matter, but the fact that he asked at all seemed odd.

For as long as you had known the godly brothers, Loki had always been the one to show the least amount of interest. Cold and quiet had always been his demeanor in your presence, and it had lead you to believe that you were small and insignificant. Being around him didn’t make you uncomfortable, but you recalled many friends with siblings that made you feel the same way. You were a passing blip, important only to the people that he happened to know.

With a shrug, you answered. “For a little while, yeah. I can’t stay forever, as much as I’d like to. But I’ve got time. No better way to spend it then to play cheerleader for a bit. Y’know, cheer you guys on. Help when I can.”

“Cheer him on, you mean.” Loki drawled bitterly. The comment struck you as odd, and you were the slightest bit annoyed by it in all honesty.

“Not just him,” came your quick correction, “everyone. That includes you. It’s all I can do. I’m not exactly a farmer or the carpenter, but I know more about Earth than you guys do.”

“I doubt he’d let you handle a tool in the first place. He dotes on you far too much.” Loki frowned, his stoic facade cracking for a split second. His eyes wandered to your mittened hands. “Wouldn’t want you getting those pretty hands dirty, hmm?”

“I could if I wanted to!” You were indigent. Excess manual labor wasn’t something you took a great deal of pleasure and pride in, but you would be damned if you let Loki think you were there to be pampered. Your purpose was small, but it was a purpose nonetheless. “And he doesn’t dote on me.”

“Oh, but he does.” The mischievous god took a long step forward, graceful stride putting him closer. Almost looked as if he were gliding. You didn’t budge, but the faintest hint of color bloomed in your cheeks when he lowered his head towards yours. “He brought you out here himself, didn’t he? Carried you all the way here. No one else on this planet seems capable of garnering that sort of attention from him. Well, no one but that other human girl he had eyes for. Don’t think that ended well. But here you are, lapping it up.”

There was venom in his tone that far exceeded the usual amount felt by brothers. You shivered, eyes moving elsewhere. Thor was a dear friend, but you had never once thought that he was treating you in a way that was more than friendly. And if he was, you wondered why it mattered so much to Loki that he felt the need to comment on it.

“I’m not lapping anything up! I like being here for you guys! That’s what friends do.” The smarter and more logical part of your brain told you to stand down and not anger him, but you were too curious to let the subject slide now that he had the gall to bring it up. “Does it bother you that he’s so nice to me?”

Loki stood straighter and slowly absorbed the question.

Did it bother him?

It did, yet he couldn’t place his finger on why. All he knew was that Thor spoke to you like he loved, and it made him feel nauseous. The feelings that balled up in his stomach were vile and unwelcome, but he couldn’t will them away. Every little touch, every instance when he’d see the two of you talking with your heads close, drove him to instant and intense bouts of anger. It burned, deeply and with a rage he was familiar with.

But, at the same time, his heart and his head didn’t connect.

He understood that he felt upset when he saw you with anyone, but the reason was a mystery. That only infuriated him further. And, in return, the extended silence his thoughtfulness brought irritated you.

“You’re not going to answer me? Figures.  .  .” Your earlier reluctance to poke at his nerves was rapidly deteriorating the longer he remained quiet. One hand on your hip, the other jabbing a finger at the air around his chest, you dared to prod the beast. “It’s weird. You’ve never once stopped to actually talk to me, you treat me like I’m an ant——”

The terminology caused the man to flinch ever so slightly.

“Don’t mistake my interrogation for concern or interest. I was simply curious to know if you planned on taking advantage of my brother’s kindness. You’d hardly be the first.” He sneered. There was no way for you to know for certain that something else was motivating him. Deception and manipulation were his forte, and you weren’t perceptive enough to know if he was lying. Loki was brilliant, and you fully acknowledged that.

Besides, it wasn’t as if there was a reason for him to worry — if he was worried to begin with.

“I’m not using him. I don’t even like him like that. He’s a friend, that’s all.” You shrugged, since there was little else you could say on the matter. Thor was just as much a brother to you as he was to Loki. There was love there, but not the kind the trickster god assumed.

The nauseous, heated sensation in his stomach dissipated so suddenly that he almost reacted. Almost. He stood stock still, expression still as unreadable as always. But he sensed the change. Trusting a person and taking them at their word wasn’t easy for him, considering who he was. You sounded so sure, so absolute that you had no feelings for Thor aside from purely platonic ones. But that was how it usually went; someone would feel convinced that they didn’t want the god of thunder, and then the opposite feeling would plow into them like a fully functioning train.

Loki didn’t want that.

“Just a friend?” He mused curiously.

“Yeah, just a friend. A big, teddy bear friend that really likes to hug. Hard.” You rolled your shoulder and stretched out your back a little. “I don’t think he realizes how strong he is sometimes.”

You didn’t realize until the sound was over that Loki had chuckled at your observation. Hearing the sound, you realized it didn’t sound as condescending or conniving as some of his softer, quieter sounds. It wasn’t a belly laugh, but you felt the slightest bit warmer hearing it.

“You haven’t fought against him.” He pointed out with a miniscule smile.

“You’re right, I haven’t. Wouldn’t stand a chance. God, can you imagine?” You laughed openly, a hand on your chest. “I wouldn’t stand a chance against you either. He’s got all the brawn and force, but you.  .  .”

“What about me?” As if he’d pass up the chance to hear praise. You opened your mouth to say something, but no sound came out. Your face had rapidly shifted from amusement to horror. Loki didn’t bother asking. Instead, he turned swiftly on the heel of his boot and found what had caused your distress.

“Brother.  .  .” He sighed. In the distance, a pack of wind reindeer had made its way across the landscape, seemingly uncaring towards the sudden appearance of people on what used to be their territory. Thor, elated to see a potential hunt, had loudly and boldly stated that they have discovered their dinner. You paled considerably.

“I feel like something bad is going to happen if I don’t stop him.”

“You’d be more effective over there than you would be over here in that case.” Loki pointed out. You passed him an apologetic look. For the first time, you had been close to having an actual conversation with him. He sensed your regret and waved it off.

When you bolted to meet the king, Loki was met with that bothersome knot in his stomach. He watched you hurry away and decided then that he needed to do something about this odd bout of confusion you were causing him.

[imalifegen89]

A Legacy Left Behind - Chapter 2 - The Lions of the Valley - Part 1

Rating: Mature

Category: M/M

Fandoms: Stargate Atlantis /Stargate SG-1/ Hawaii Five-O (2010)

Relationships: John Sheppard/Steve McGarrett

Characters:  Steve McGarrett, Danny "Danno" Williams, Junior Reigns, Kono Kalakaua, Adam Noshimuri, Joe White, Anton Hesse, Victor Hesse, Wo Fat, Clay Garcia (OC), Bradley Jacks, PO Higgins (OC), Kamekona Tupuola, John Sheppard, Mr. Smith (OC), Wraith (OC), Goa'uld Character(s)

Warnings : Crossover/ Canon Divergence/alternate Universe/Violence

Summary of the series:

The Ancients fled the Milky Way galaxy after annihilating the enemy they had unknowingly given birth to, themselves-  or so they thought. What if the enemy was still here? What if they are aligning themselves with others to regain power? Well, it was a good thing some of the Ancients left behind a gift; a legacy to prevent that exact eventuality, wasn't it? But will it be enough? An Alternate Universe where the Wraith originated on earth and the SGC have to pick up the pieces where the Ancients left off and continue the fight against the Wraith- since it's the survival of humanity that is at stake!

Summary of the chapter: The Lions of the Valley - Picks up the story where we left off Steve & his team, how they wrapped up their operation, and glimpses of what goes on the side of the enemy.

Beta — Salchat — She's the best!

Part - 1

Physical Training Facility, Naval Personnel Housing Complex

Bagram Air Base - Afghanistan.

Two days after Major John Sheppard's retrieval from Parwan.

"Whoa, what’s with the pummeling fest on the bag Steve?"

Senior Chief Petty Officer Daniel Williams swerved to avoid a face full of punching bag and wrapped his muscular arms around it, to stop it from returning to sender.

"Let it go, Danny," Steve said in irritation, glaring at his second in command. The man was interfering with his work out- well, that is if you could call the full-blown venting he was indulging in, raining kicks and punches on the bag in their gym- a workout.

"Now, how well do you know me, hah? You know it's useless asking me to do that. So tell me, what's bothering you, babe? Why are you feeling guilty?"

"Why would you say I'm feeling guilty? Maybe I'm angry!" challenged Steve, making a grab at the bag. But Danny wasn't letting go easily. And Steve wasn't honestly feeling like engaging in a brawl over a punching bag with his annoyingly perceptive friend.

In fact, he must have been at it for a while because he felt the exhaustion taking over, leaving him feeling drained. He started to unwrap the tape around his knuckles slowly.

"Well, you see that is because I do know you. Now, if you were angry, you would be in the ring, sparring with that crazy Jap, Noshimuri, kicking each other's asses to hell and back. Frustration would have taken you to the shooting range and there'd be many very-dead targets, shot through the head by now. This is where you come to, if the guilt is the winning contender in your crazy head. So I ask again babe, what’s wrong?"

The New Jersey native let the endearment slip in, whenever he was concerned about his young charge. Danny was six years older than Steve and had been in the Navy that much longer than Steve as well. Danny was given this freshly-out-of BUD/S, green as grass, young Lieutenant five years ago to keep alive. And then to train him in the field, if he could manage the first task. He had managed to do all that and remain Steve's 2IC throughout the years. The guy needed a steady and sane keeper.

Danny admitted to himself that the young officer had come a long way and had earned his respect and loyalty along with his friendship. The guy was as crazy as they came - laboring under utter delusions of bullet-proof superman tendencies- in Danny's humble opinion. But the guy had proven his worth and mettle under fire many times over the years.

The Lieutenant had a keen intelligence and the base nature of a hell-hound that was extremely useful when it came to tracking the baddies the brass let him loose on, disguised as missions. Danny had come to understand the obscure methods deeply hidden under the wild chaos that was Lieutenant Steven J. McGarrett of the Navy SEALs.  And to somewhat his consternation, Danny found himself devotedly invested in the said Lieutenant’s general well-being.

..........

Steve huffed and finished what he was doing. Then ruffled through his duffel bag until he found two bottles of water and sat down cross- legged on the mat on the floor near the workout benches. Danny was not going to go away anytime soon and he might as well get it over with now, Steve thought to himself. All mental bitching aside, he found that talking things out with his NCO, did help him more often than not.

Danny left the punching bag and came to sit down beside Steve. Steve gave him the other bottle of water and let out a sigh.

"It's Sheppard. I can't get it out of my head Danny. I keep hoping and praying that those people got to him on time. But from what little I saw... it was bad, man. And to think that our own people did that to him, that I fucking hand-delivered him for that ... shit."

He stuttered and came to a stop, his breath hitching. Danny had a comforting hand on his back.

"It's been what, two days now since those classified fucks disappeared?" Steve asked, giving voice to the thoughts that had been swirling in his mind. "There's only a skeleton crew there in that village now, the one they'd secured earlier, right? And another one, milling around looking for those two missing assholes, that had John. Nobody's telling me shit except for an all polite 'I'm sorry sir, It's classified'. I spoke to Joe too. He says he doesn't know anything either. It's not like I'm looking for goddamn state secrets here, is it? Just tell me where they took him and if the guy is alive or not... Fuck."

Steve was mortified, realizing that he had worked himself up to a full-blown rant. That was what Danny usually did. Steve was the stoic one. But the guilt and the frustration were eating away at him and he suddenly felt like he needed to go down to the firing range right the fuck now; ok- so Danny was maybe onto something there.

"Hey, I know you two were close. Hell, I helped nudge you two knuckleheads along to get your acts together and get into it. And I'm sure that he is being taken care of, Steve. I mean they sent a fully-fledged Colonel to the field, to a war zone, just to retrieve him. And they would not have done that, if they were not very keen on keeping the zoomie alive. Shep must be important to someone higher up there for something and you must believe, for now, that is a good thing." Danny continued.

"And Steve, you did what you had to do, babe. Arresting him and handing him over was the only play you could make with the intel you had at the time. We all heard Hart over the line, Shep could have taken off with all of them, and instead, he got crazy and ran away," he gave a moment to let that sink in. "Now, you told me that you believed this Sumner guy, when he said that Shep was away saving lives? Not running around like a maniac," Danny asked after the lengthy pause.

Steve gave a grudging nod.

"Then you've got to cut yourself some slack and believe me when I say that you did the right thing at the time too;" Danny took the nod as a yes and continued. "Colonel Sumner wasn't there then and they didn't train you on telepathy or precognition at Annapolis or Illinois or anywhere else. So there is no way you could have known what Shep was doing. Anyone of us in your shoes at the time would have done what you did. Hell, orders came from Joe to hand him over to that fucker at Parwan and you couldn't have disobeyed a direct order. You think Joe would have ordered you to do that, if he knew they were going to torture the man?"

Danny answered his own question after a beat. "No babe, I don't think so."

He seemed content to leave it at that, picking up on the reluctant agreement in Steve’s face, even though Steve did not say anything.

“Then what the hell happened to Freddie?” Steve asked quietly after a moment. “Who or what killed him and his team? And what the hell could possibly have made him sound so pissed scared like that? You knew him too Danny, it wasn’t like him at all!”

Danny contemplated his answer and let out a sigh.

“Yeah, I was thinking about it too. He did sound a little crazy on the line. But you’ve got to realize babe, he just crashed. Maybe he was a bit out of it? On the other hand, your Colonel said it was something to do with his mission and that they were targeted by something that we don’t know about?”

“Sumner said they believed Freddie and his team were compromised the minute that call went up in the air or maybe before even that.” Steve replied.

“Well then, there you go. There is so much classified shit around that chopper; we simply don’t know what happened. Maybe it was like the Colonel said or maybe not. We just don’t know. That’s the job Steve. We all know what we get ourselves into when we take on our missions. And things don’t always go our way and missions do go FUBAR. And then we die. We just have to hope that this Colonel of yours will find the people who were responsible. It was their op after all.” Then Danny brought up the matter of more practical and relevant issues. “Besides, we have our own group of assholes to worry about. You need to get your head in the game, Steve. That’s our mission.”

Steve didn’t say anything for a while. But he knew Danny was right. There really was nothing he could do for Shep or Hart right now. But he could do something about the bad guys he already had in his sight. That would have to be enough for now.

Danny let him just sit in silence for a few more minutes. Then he stood up decisively.

"Come along, grasshopper- let’s go get some grub. Maybe we can talk Kono into seducing one of the hush-hush fuckers to cave in and tell us something. Maybe it was your ugly mug that had them clamping up on you. Kono is way prettier than you. Fuck, even that Jap's got more charm; what with the husky bed-room voice and dimples…"

Steve felt his lips twitching involuntarily at Danny's muttered musings. He let out a chuckle and got up to follow his friend. His feelings were still dangerously close to the surface- but he felt somewhat in control of them. He was glad that Danny found him when he did; the man had a way of getting him out of his funk. He was not going to say any of that out loud though; it wouldn't help him one bit to let his NCO's head get any bigger.

Base Commander's Office, Bagram Air Base - Afghanistan.

Commander Joe White summoned Steve to his office the next day.

“Get yourself a coffee and sit down Steve,” he invited.

Steve did as asked, knowing that whatever came next- had to be quite important. Commander White was like a father to Steve and often mentored him; in both his professional and personal lives. But the Commander rarely indulged in private chit-chat while on active duty.

“I know you’ve been upset over the whole incident regarding Hart and that pilot Sheppard. Hell, I am a little upset myself.” He gave birth to the understatement of the day.

“I’ve had contact with Colonel Sumner. Now, I can’t tell you about whom he works for or what Hart and others were involved in. And I can’t tell you where Sheppard is or how he is either. Why? Because I don’t know. But, here is what I can tell you - according to Sumner, the chopper that went down with Hart and others was involved in one of their operations. They are investigating what happened to them still, because apparently, they were way off from their destination-”

Steve nodded along. This was what the Colonel had informed him while he was taking Steve’s statement as well.

“They're not sure yet if any foul play was involved from their end or how the enemy got to their transport in the first place. And they are still investigating everyone who was included in that operation.”

Steve bristled at the insinuation that Freddie might have been consorting with the enemy. He had known the guy for a while and been down range with him several times. He was pretty sure Freddie wouldn’t do that.

Commander White held up a hand to forestall the argument he could see coming his way.

“I know he was a friend. But it’s their op and they have to find out what happened. Anyway, that’s not the point. The point is that Sumner agreed to let us keep the bodies of the three SEALs with us. The team he has here will take the bodies of the civilians with them. He said that Hart and the other two SEALs were recruited in Canada. Apparently Hart was a part of the NORAD exchange. God knows how he managed that.”

Steve wasn’t sure whether his CO was referring to Freddie or Colonel Sumner. But he kept his doubts to himself and sipped his coffee.

“So he offered to return their bodies to the base in Canada, but I said we'll take care of it. That’s what I wanted to let you know. We have the bodies with us and I'll be making arrangements to return them back to the States within the week or so. I thought that maybe if you wrap up your mission here by that time, you can accompany them.”

“Thank you for arranging that, Sir.” Steve said with heartfelt gratitude. Escorting his friend’s body home was the least he could do for him.

With that he left his CO’s office to get back to the operation he was running. He was on the field team today, for the surveillance on the enemy base.

Naval Command and Control Center, Bagram Base - Afghanistan

Four days after Major John Sheppard's retrieval from Parwan.

Steve and his team found themselves gathered in the CIC (Command and Information Center/Command and Control) after dinner, for the day's review. Well, what was left of his team at the base anyway; since some of his team was still in the field. They were discreetly observing the activity in the enemy base they had tracked the weapons convoy to- earlier.

Thanks to several GPS trackers they had managed to install on the trucks, they now had the exact co-ordinates of the hidden base, the infamous Hesse brothers kept disappearing into.

……….

The SEAL team had been tracking the four suspicious vehicles, that split up from Kandahar and had been cruising all over the whole northern region of Afghanistan. The team had also split up, in order to tail each of them.

Finally, around about ten days ago, the vehicles, now full with illicit cargo of weapons, money, ammo and other assorted inventory enough to invade the whole country, had regrouped and continued towards the valley of Panjshir.

Anton Hesse had got into a truck along the way and continued with the convoy as well, which Steve considered an ad ded bonus. Wherever the elder brother was, the younger was not far behind and that saved them the trouble of locating the two assholes later. The convoy had continued until it ran out of the road and then into a barely navigable route in jungle terrain, leading towards the Hindu Kush mountains.

Continuing for about another day, deep into the jungle, the convoy had finally reached a small yet well-hidden base right up against the valley. It was located well away from the smaller villages scattered around Panjshir, but nestled quite close to Hindu Kush mountain range. Steve suspected that they probably had a network of cave entrances and even underground bolt holes, apart from the base they could see from the surface.

So nine days ago, this was where they were, when Steve had to divert to help the unfortunate Black Hawk; which then led to Sheppard's subsequent arrest.

Steve and his team had been taking turns in keeping up constant surveillance around the clock on the hidden base to get a feel of their operation. After the initial convoy they tracked, there had been three more arrivals. The brothers never left the place- but they were seeing the evidence, that somebody even higher up in the terrorist food chain had shown up. Only the previous day, the security had been beefed up all over the base considerably, after an armored SUV had delivered the said leader.

They had been gathering in the CIC every day since the discovery of the enemy base, to view all the information and footage whichever field team of the day managed to send through. They had been making plans for attacks; war gaming various scenarios and adapting the plans according to the changes that were happening at the enemy base.

……….

Today was different because their CO, Commander Joe White was present for the live review with them. Usually, Steve just handed over the day's report to him after the viewing session.

"Alright, listen up people!" Commander White called everybody for their attention.

"We've got the word down the line today. The mission's been green-lighted by the Naval Intelligence Command. They want your platoon to move in and shut it down.  The strategy is to kill or capture the two known targets and the unidentified target. Whatever other resistance, you deal with as you see fit. They want you moving within 24 hours. This is it, ladies, the operation 'Mountain Goats' is a go."

The only lady that was present at the CIC, Agent Kono Kalakaua tried her best to hide a snicker at that, but only partially succeeded. White sent her a look on his way out of the room. Steve could have sworn he saw a smirk on his Commander's face; but he was much better at hiding it than Agent Kalakaua.

Those two had a long debate going on about the silly little names the Naval Intelligence (ha ha) came up with, against the professionalism, the alphabet soup agencies displayed, with their use of alpha numeric IDs, for operations. And Steve was wisely staying away from it.

……….

Steve had been on the trail of these particularly troublesome Hesse brothers for a few months now; all the way back from India. He had followed them around half the world from India, Pakistan, Indonesia and Thailand before finally settling up for the long haul in Afghanistan.

The Naval Intelligence had caught wind of a strange deal going on- Victor and Anton Hesse had come up as big players. Therefore the NI had Steve on the field following them on ground discreetly, hoping to put a stop to whatever the Hesse brothers were planning. Although he was given the support of various SEAL teams available in every country he found himself in, Steve had managed to keep his second in command SCPO Danny Williams, Lieutenant JG Bradley Jacks, PO 1st class Junior Reigns, and PO 1st class Clay Garcia as permanent fixtures on his team.

Special Agent Kono Kalakaua of the Special Activities Division of the CIA, formerly of the DEA and with two tours under her belt as a soldier in the US Army before that, had been following a trail of arms deals when she had crossed paths with Steve. Realizing they were after the same terrorists, they had joined forces in Pakistan to continue the observations. She was a beautiful woman with Korean heritage and Steve thought he saw Danny always go a little bug eyed, every time she flashed her dimples at him.

Lieutenant Adam Noshimuri had come with Kono, as a package deal. He was an American/Japanese dual citizen with experience in JMSDF (Japanese Maritime Defense Forces) and Japan's PSIA (Public Security Intelligence Agency) and had been tracking a Yakuza connection to illegal armsdealing and smuggling. He had been seconded to the CIA almost a year ago, as part of a Japan-American Intelligence sharing venture. Kono and Adam had made a number of arrests and shut down some major smuggling routes. But the leadership of the enterprise had proven elusive. The CIA, in conjunction with its' Japanese counterpart, had given the blessing for the dynamic duo to join the SEAL team in order to get to the bottom of it. Danny believed that Adam was the calm, steady and reasonable presence to the wild hurricane that was Kono; much like he was to McGarrett.

Fourteen other enlisted SEALs from the Naval Base Bagram, including two more NCOs, completed Steve's platoon for the operation 'Mountain Goats'.

Navy SEAL Ready Room, Bagram Base - Afghanistan

The team was divided into four groups. Lieutenant Steven J. McGarrett had the overall tactical command of the operation and was going to be on the lead attacking team. He had four other SEALs and one Adam Noshimuri, whose field MO (Modus Operandi) was not that different from a real-life ninja.

Senior Chief Petty Officer Danny Williams would be leading a team into the base from the right flank and if anything were to happen to Steve, would be taking over as the ops lead. Petty Officer 1st class Junior Reigns had command of the team that would be attacking from the left.

These ground attack teams carried their standard primary weapons, HK MP7 4.6X30mm sub-machine guns with suppressors and Sig Sauer P239 subcompact 9mm hand guns strapped to their thighs, as secondary weapons. They all put on their standard body armor, night camo and face paint with their tac vests and field kits filled up with extra ammunition, several kinds of grenades, field med kits, comms gear, batteries, field rations and water. The team leaders also carried portable compact screens that they could use to tap into their night drone feeds that were observing the enemy base even now. They were all equipped with NVGs (Night vision goggles) and cameras with live feeds connected to their CIC, as it was the standard for any SEAL team raid.

PO Higgins was seen lovingly hugging his affectionately called Pirate Gun, a modified M79 grenade launcher as he carried it along with his standard kit to the helipad. The big man easily over 6’4" with a width to match, made the big gun look positively tiny and harmless.

Agent Kono Kalakaua, who was equally enamored and just as lethal with her beloved Sniper rifle McMillan Tac-338 that fired the deadly .338 Lapua Magnum rounds, had the lead of the snipers. She and three other SEALs made up the team that would take the 'Over Watch' position when they were at the field, keeping the asses of the ground team covered. Lieutenant JG Jacks, carrying an M82-50 caliber, extreme long range, anti-material sniper rifle and SEALs Garcia and Terrance with their MK-11 medium sniper rifles, completed the team. They also had special image intensifiers, thermal imaging cameras, and sound suppressors to aid the night vision and stealth.

……….

The three SEALs who were already at the enemy base conducting surveillance, would keep on aerial surveillance with the two drones they had in the air and would provide live feed for the team leaders and if the need be for the snipers to tap into, during the raid. They would also provide back up and act as field medics.

……….

After the order from his Commander, the whole team had gone over the objective and attack plan in detail. Steve had encouraged everyone to ask questions and state concerns. After two hours of intense discussion and planning, he had dismissed the team for a quick break with the order to be ready and report to the helipad at the west end of the complex by 0200 hrs. He had then gone to update his commander on the agreed plan. Joe White had given his approval, seeing that Steve and his team had everything covered.

West End Helipad – Meeting Point, Bagram Air Base - Afghanistan

0155 hrs

Being the professionals that they were, Steve found them ready and waiting eagerly, when he reached the meeting point at 0155 hrs with Commander Joe White in tow.

"Alright team, just so we are clear on the plan again. We go there, make sure the things are as they should be, go in hard and fast. We don't let them regroup. Stealth is the name of the game for the entry. You know what the Hesse brothers look like and we ID the other leader on the go. It's kill or capture for those three. And all the Intel we can get, we need to keep intact. That means keeping an eye on Anton, as he’s the tech guy. For the rest of the base, it's open season." He re-capped the quick and dirty version of the game plan.

"Go give them hell boys!" Joe White delivered the traditional order.

"Hooyah!" Came the enthusiastic reply from the platoon.

The Enemy Base, Panjshir Valley - Afghanistan

0245 hrs

The two Stealth Black Hawk helicopters had delivered the team some distance away from the objective due to the landing difficulty in the jungle terrain the enemy was based in. A half-hour trek through the jungle had brought them near the entry points and they were ready to begin.

Steve sent out a roll call.

His team, designated H1 through H5, stated each of their readiness into their comms. Steve was designated HL as he was the team lead.

Danny and Junior also had similar checks running through their own teams, designated R and L respectively. They were positioned at their entry points in right and left flanks and were ready to move on mark.

Kono reported to Steve the readiness of her team last when all of the snipers had dispersed and taken various Over-watch positions. They were perched on hills, trees and in Jack's case, on top of a Humvee parked at the highest point behind thick vegetation closest to the mountains. They had the enemy base covered from four positions and the three ground teams would breach from the points in between, providing each other maximum cover.

The ground teams would also change into hand signals after Steve's order to move in and only the snipers and drone teams would make verbal reports, keeping everyone on the loop. PO Higgins, acting as the team’s demolitions expert, would divert from Danny's team after the initial entry, to place explosives on strategic locations.

They would leave nothing behind when they were done.

Steve checked in with the ops controllers at the CIC in Bagram some 60 miles away, who were watching over the live feeds, for the final Go/No Go order.

"Hotel Lima, you are a go. I repeat you are GO." The confirmation came from the tech at the CIC.

Steve took a deep breath; sent a quick mental prayer to any god who watched over the crazy SEALs to keep his team safe and gave the order to move in.

The Lions of the Valley-Hidden Freedom Fighter Base, Panjshir Valley - Afghanistan

0300 hrs

Salim Khabir positively hated the night shift as a sentry. It was cold, humid and the mosquitoes would not leave him alone. There were three others guarding the main building tonight, sharing the misery with him; a fat lot of good that did...Not.

The flat-faced, dead-eyed, Chinese guy had everybody on their toes and Khabir had had to chip in as a guard, to keep up round-the-clock security. He was their official cook. There were altogether fifteen of them on duty tonight. Four for the main building, two for the storage shacks, three of them for the barracks where the soldiers were based and six patrolling the perimeter. And there were many others awake and guarding the miserable nights away inside the buildings as well.

"Shit. I had to draw the short straw again! What wouldn't I do to be inside the cozy guest house guarding that?" he thought to himself sourly.

"Whatever that Chinaman is about, he must be important. I have never seen the Hesse brothers cower away like that from anyone ever before," Khabir slapped at a mosquito on his forehead.

"Oh, I wonder what's up with all the hush-hush dealings going on in those caves? Nobody goes in there except for the brothers. And the weird China guy of course..." he kept up his mental dialog while scanning the surrounding area. It was a hopeless gesture though; the night was dark and the visibility was quite poor.

"And what the hell kind of name is Wo Fat, anyway?"

All the private musings that were keeping the hardships of the night sentry duty away, also kept Salim Khabir from noticing the red cigarette light, ten yards to his left, disappear into the night.

By the time he did notice, there was nothing he could do anyway. He may have opened his mouth to shout out a warning- but the knife across his throat put a stop to it, before the thought to shout even fully formed.

……….

Steve had sent Adam and Leonard to take care of the patrolling guards on their side of the entry. Those two had disappeared into the moonless night to neutralize the guards without breaking stealth. Two patrol guards with their throats slit and one guard shot in the head with a suppressed MP7 later, it was done.

Steve and his remaining three SEALs had silently trekked through the dark, while the patrol was busydying. They had gotten close behind each of the sentry guarding the main building- and all of them- including clueless Khabir, were dispatched thoroughly and quietly, with their throats slit open.

Steve then directed two of his SEALs to drag the bodies away while waiting for the team leaders to signal in, with clicks on the comms.

……….

Danny spared a couple of seconds to watch his two guys- Ruiz and Hicks- taking off after the two guards who had the misfortune to wander towards the entry point- where Danny and his team were positioned. The third guard held Danny’s full attention now. Poor sod had taken a detour into the thicket to relieve himself only maybe three yards off to his left. Danny waited patiently until the guy finished and tucked himself in; then blew his brains out with his suppressed MP7, point blank.

Signaling Steve and Reigns with pre-arranged clicking codes on his comms, he moved his team towards their target, as Higgins went away to plant his deadly gifts.

……….

Team leader PO Junior Reigns was listening to the signal of all clear/moving in from Williams while watching his point of entry. Lt. Jacks, the sniper who was closest to him and had the birds' eye view of Reigns' entry, was giving him a terse report.

"Six patrol guards are down. Reigns you are clear to move. You've got two at the shacks and one moving from the barracks towards them. You got about thirty seconds to move before the third joins the party-"

Reigns directed Jones and Derrick to take care of the stationary guards and moved towards cover behind the shacks, to meet the arriving guard. He heard the soft gurgles that erupted from the dying guards and then the swish, as the bodies were dragged aside by his team. He observed the arriving party getting a little bit agitated and waving his torch around, as he couldn't see his fellow guards where they were supposed to be. Junior had seconds to act before the guard panicked and raised the alarm.

He took his k-bar, calmly took a breath, and sent it flying. His aim proved true as the knife found its mark, burying itself deep in the third guards' throat.

He signaled his advance as the rest of his team joined him after tucking the bodies behind the storage shacks.

……….

The smaller building they had identified earlier as the point where the base security was coordinated, was tucked away to the side of the main building. Danny's team had the task of breaching and securing it while Steve and his team breached the main building from its entrance and exit simultaneously.

Danny directed Bryce and Klein from his team to detach and reinforce Reigns' team according to the plan- Junior had the unenviable task of breaching the barracks where the terrorists slept.

Danny, Ruiz and Hicks made their entry through the only door the security hut had. Hicks, who was on point, mule kicked the door and Ruiz threw a frag grenade. They entered, leading with their MP7s and the still stunned and confused enemy had no hope of putting up a reasonable resistance.

There were ten of them in all and within ten minutes all of them lay dead where they were with shots to the chests and heads. Danny then got busythat with the computers. He inserted the data retrieval units they were all issued prior to the raid by the Naval Intelligence Command for this purpose. The NIC was anal about collecting every scrap of data they could.

Ruiz quickly cleared the rest of the building while Hicks kept watch.

……….

Steve, Riley, Wilkes, and Nelson positioned themselves at the front entrance of the main building as Adam and Leonard made their way toward the exit. This team had to be cautious with their entry because it was suspected that the leaders were housed in the upper section of this two storey building. They breached at the same time Danny's team did, to preserve stealth to the last possible minute. Wilkes kicked the door in and the grenades were thrown in. Steve heard Adam and Leonard making entry through the back as well.

Gunfire erupted as the confused and injured guards started firing blindly. Steve took cover behind an upturned sofa and returned fire, covering his fellow SEAL’s entry. They moved in tandem covering each other and within seven minutes, they had cleared the ground floor of the mail building. Eight enemies lay dead with kill shots to heads and chests.

Meanwhile, Kono reported in, saying she had taken care of two guards upstairs. Both were unfortunate enough to move towards windows wandering into Kono's cross-hairs. Taking the stairs that was the only way up from inside was proving difficult, now that the enemy was up and alert. But the element of surprise and shock and awe tactics were still working to their advantage, keeping the enemy somewhat confused. Steve managed to shoot down two more as they peered down from the upstairs railing.

Then five of the enemy got organized and positioned themselves behind cover from above to block the SEALs from gaining the upstairs. Steve waited until Adam and Leonard joined him. He then signaled Adam, who nodded in response.

Both of them popped from the cover they were behind and lobbed two grenades in perfectly timed simultaneous throws; both grenades sailed in elegant arcs and landed near the two clusters of enemies upstairs. The SEALs were already moving and at the base of the stairs when the grenades went off, killing the five targets instantly.

Steve and Adam got to the top together and Steve turned left while Adam turned right. They had three main rooms to clear on the second floor.

Riley and Nelson followed Steve to the left with Leonard and Wilkes following Adam to the right. Steve moved cautiously with his two SEALs flanking him, clearing closets and bathrooms. When they reached the bedroom door, it exploded outwards showering them in wood splinters. They all ducked on reflex and rolled to find cover.

"Come on you mother fuckers!! Come get me, I dare you. You fucking cunts!!"

They all heard hysterical screaming and swearing coming from the room. They had found Anton Hesse. It made things easier for them. If Anton was here screaming at them, he was not busy deleting their databases.

"Come out with your hands up Anton. It's over." Steve calmly ordered while keeping his weapon pointed at the door.

Sound of a breaking window was followed by a report from Garcia on the Over Watch. Anton had tried to take a leap off the balcony and Garcia had firmly discouraged the notion.

Anton Hesse did not come out with surrender as ordered. He came out shooting his shotgun in a blazing arc trying to catch the SEALs in a sweep. It was a dumb thing to try to use a shotgun as a machine gun and he only managed to make a couple of massive holes on the walls and a wooden closet door. Steve and his team were again showered with splinters, pieces of bricks, and dry plaster of walls but none of them were seriously harmed. Steve took careful aim and shot the maniac on the thigh. Anton let out a squeal; dropped his gun and then dropped to the ground hugging his injured thigh, wailing miserably.

Riley calmly secured Anton Hesse while Nelson quickly patched the wound with a field dressing. They would properly treat it after they had him transported back to Bagram. The field bandage would keep him from bleeding out and going into shock.

Steve was about to order them to take him to their exit point when Garcia came on his comms again.

"Boss, I've got movement. One bogey on the roof moving fast towards the back of the building. He is making a run to the caves. I repeat bogey moving north on the roof top. I do not have a shot."

The urgency of the report had Steve running into the room Anton had just vacated. He ran into the balcony and jumped on the railing. Using it as a step to propel himself up, he managed to grab hold of the rainwater drain at the edge of the roof. He hauled himself onto the roof and took off running after the enemy, whom he could see already gaining distance. He had a feeling this might be the third and the unidentified target.

He barked orders to Nelson and Riley to secure the prisoner and take him to the exit point while on pursuit. He ignored Danny's shouts through his comms to wait for goddamn backup before running after maniacs by himself. Steve knew Danny would follow and get to him on time anyway, despite his bitching.

……….

Adam, Leonard, and Wilkes were having a relatively easier time compared to Steve and his team. They were clearing the right-wing, when they came face to face with Victor Hesse. He had a bomb strapped to his chest and a dead man's trigger clutched tightly in his right fist.

"Now, just lower your weapons and raise your hands."

The older Hesse ordered calmly with his German-accented English. Seeing Adam and the two SEALs obeying his order- boosted his confidence.

"I will be slowly walking out of here, down the stairs, and out of that door. And you will let me- otherwise, all of us go to hell in an ugly boom, and sort our shit down there in front of the devil." He informed them with an arrogant smirk.

Adam tracked Hesse's slow movement towards the stairs with a slight smile. When his mental count reached six seconds Adam said "Ouch."

Victor Hesse had about a second to wonder about the strange reaction to his seemingly working plan to get away. Then he heard a splat and felt a spray of liquid on his face. His brain went offline for a moment and when it came back online, he registered a bloody stump where his right fist used to be. The dead man's trigger and his right fist lay scattered to tiny pieces on the floor. His eyes rolled back his head and he fell to the floor, unconscious.

"Ouch is the word brah." Said Kono in Adam's ear jubilantly.

Adam kneeled down by the passed-out Hesse to put a tourniquet and wrap up what was left of his hand. Wilkes slowly divested Hesse of his deadly ornament now laid on his chest harmlessly. Once finished, Adam directed Wilkes and Leonard to take Victor Hesse away and join the other two from Steve's team. Adam himself took off with the intention of finding Steve. He had a feeling Steve was going to need help.

……….

PO Junior Reigns and his team were engaged in a fire fight with enemies in the barracks. One of them somehow had woken up before they could breach and alerted his buddies. They had barricaded the entrances to the complex and started shooting at Junior and his team. EneThe enemymy had the cover of their building and Junior’s team was scattered around the building behind whatever cover they could find. They had both the entrance and exit of the building covered and had already killed three enemy combatants who tried to come out of the building. Now they were locked in an impasse; with Junior’s team outside and the enemies inside.

Junior popped up from behind the truck he was taking cover and took a couple of shots at the enemy who was aiming at a running SEAL. Derrick was moving from his cover to get behind another nearby tree. The terrorist ducked inside and Derrick made it behind cover safely.

Then Reigns spotted the man he was waiting for. Higgins had been busy planting explosives. He had just finished the shacks and the security hut and was moving towards the main building when Reigns signaled him to divert towards him behind the truck instead.

"Ah Junior, you want me to break up the tie?"

PO Higgins was all smiles realizing he was getting to use his Pirate Gun, the modified M79 grenade launcher.

"Yes, Higgins. If you would please do the honors,"

Reigns gestured him with a sweeping hand and took a step back to make space for the big SEAL and his big gun. He signaled his team to take cover and cover their ears.

Higgins took a knee, aimed his grenade launcher towards the housing complex, and let loose.

Four strategically placed shots from the Pirate Gun later; the housing complex was reduced to half-collapsed rubble. The terrorists, suffering from various injuries, came spilling out and it was shooting fish in a barrel for Junior and his team then.

Higgins took a mocking bow and sauntered away to complete his original mission.

……….

Danny cursed when he heard Steve taking after the bad guy all by himself. He hurriedly directed the rest of his team to finish data retrieval from the security hut and then continue to the rest of the available

identified data points to keep gathering everything they could. He then took off after Steve, berating him about the back-up all the way.

……….

The target had continued his mad dash over the roof, taken a running leap onto a truck that was parked below, rolled off its' hood and continued running through the thicket towards the mountains.

Steve caught up to him just as he was stepping into an obscure area that most probably led into a cave or a tunnel system. He didn't want to lose the guy in a maze; so he took a couple of shots on the run, trying to steer him away while closing the distance.

The man was quick on his feet as he veered away and continued running alongside the hills still aiming to take his chance disappearing into the jungle. Steve matched his stride and vector and put on a burst of speed.

Then the man somewhat surprised Steve, as he changed direction again; this time running straight at Steve. Caught off guard, Steve went down with his target on top of him in a tangle of limbs.

They fought fiercely. The bad guy didn't waste time raining punches on Steve's face while trying desperately to grab his gun. Steve held on to his gun with all his might and managed to aim an elbow to his opponent's face. The man took it on the jaw and rolled with it; when he disengaged from Steve, he had Steve's MP7 in his hands.

The man got to his knees in one smooth motion and aimed the gun at Steve's face. His finger tightened on the trigger and a smirk graced his face.

What he didn't realize was that when Steve aimed an elbow at his face, his other hand was going to his hand gun which was strapped to his thigh. That move loosened Steve’s grip on the MP7, letting the bad guy have the weapon.

So by the time he rolled off Steve and took a knee to aim Steve’s own weapon at him, Steve already had his hand gun tucked close to his chest, aimed at the smirking asshole's face.

A second later, the bad guy fell to the ground face-first; a neat hole in his chest, because Steve had changed his aim at the last second to keep him alive.

……….

Adam and Danny both made it to Steve at the same time. They had been directed by the drone team to his whereabouts. They found their leader kneeling by the fallen body of the bad guy, with both his palms pressed against a bleeding wound on the bad guy’s chest.

Adam contacted the medics for the field stretcher to be brought in to transport the man while Danny took time to fuss over Steve, to make sure the SEAL wasn't about to keel over from an undisclosed wound as well.

……….

Calls were made and the choppers were brought in. They had space to land at the enemy base which was now firmly under the SEAL's control. All three wounded targets were transported to Bagram along with the medics and one more SEAL to keep an eye on them.

The rest of the team dispersed around the base to secure everything. The hard part might have been over; but they still had to go over everything to take inventories, to make sure they didn't miss any data they could retrieve, and to sweep the area for any stragglers hiding away.

After two hours of thorough search throughout the base, Steve was satisfied. He called his team to the chopper that was patiently waiting to take them back. They all got in and once the bird climbed high enough in the sky, Steve called Higgins to deliver the coup de grace.

The Petty Officer gleefully pressed the buttons in his remote detonator. Explosions rocked the enemy base in answer, taking in all the illegal weapons, ammo, buildings, and bodies and turning them into dust and rubble.

Lt. Steve McGarrett congratulated his team on a job well done; boisterous hooyah's were shouted in reply.

The Lions of the Valley was no more.

[laidbackmarco]

Trinkets of a Different Time

As a kid I remember rifling through my dad’s nightstand to find small pocket knives, trinkets, and various other personal articles. As a romantic and philosopher I believe the inanimate objects we interact with everyday tell us a lot about ourselves, and have deep vast stories hidden with them. One could argue that they are as much a part of this living breathing universe as we are. The imagination of a child allowed me to daydream of a life lived before I came into the world.

  How much do I know of being a minority in the 60s, 70s, 80s? What Tacoma was like, the stories of Kansas and Virginia which always seem to not be long enough for me to know anything. Or on my mom’s end how could I know what it was like to lose my father at an early age. To grow up in a third world country miles away over the pacific ocean. I hear short snippets of each of their lives through oral stories passed down from one generation to the next. But it’s often strange to think about how little we know about the people who raised us, and often weirder thinking that they have as little of an idea of what they are doing as you do.

Strangers With The Same DNA

My mom being a party animal, my dad being some sort of geek. . . If I met them on the street would I recognize them? What I would give to be Marty McFly and meet and observe my parents in their youth. My knowledge is so limited I have troubling remember what happens in a day if I don’t journal. The images I have of my parents are constructs in my mind that change and shift with every passing moment. Remember the image you held of your dad when you were five, its probably the way my elementary school students think of me now as a 23 year old adult. Up till seven I thought my dad was some sort of flawless super hero. Of course that image has since changed, but as I grow into adulthood and discover how hard it really is, I can once again say that I am amazed by the things my dad has accomplished on his time on this earth. The flaws my dad has only make him more relatable, and overcoming some of them is a testament to how much he cares.

Parents lie to their kids all the time, I think my parents lied about their past as much as they tell the truth. Of course they could be lying on accident due to the lackluster perception of self present all humans. (including me the author)

Most of my parents lives I was not a part of . . .the time I spent with them is less than half of their lives. I know mostly nothing about the people that live under my roof with me and have guided me through the world that they too had to figure out and find meaning in.

The Same Name

Maurice Vincent Harris

My dad and I share practically the same name, but I have never once called him Marc or Maurice, to do so would just feel wrong. Even calling him dad for the sake of my “audience”(thanks for reading really. . .and most of you are English speakers I’m assuming?) feels so unsettling. Because to me he has always been Tatay. Hearing that word in my head makes years of memories fly through my mind. Recently he’s picked up the name Beefo, a name my little sister has knighted him with. During my time in high school my friends had come up with a name for my Tatay that is the most fon for me to use Black Mario.

Black Mario felt just as right as Tatay and is less intimate so for the sake of this chapter let’s call him Black Mario.

Things Only I Know

What can I tell you about my dad that no one else knows? He’s afraid of dying just like everyone else, he hates his job although he appreciates all that it’s provided for us, his favorite cigarettes are menthol lights, he worries all the time about all his kids. Karina, Cristina, me. . . But he worries about Karina the most. . . Because they are scarily alike. He is very old fashion and rarely cooks, cleans, or does the laundry, but he does like to do yardwork and keep all the vehicles in working order. Some of his bad habits are gambling, smoking, and road rage. It’s hard to sleep around him because he snores very loudly, and once he’s out it’s hard to get him back up(yay for sneaking in xbox time). He’s not afraid to express what he feels at restaurants, but for some reason can’t get in touch with his sensitive side. He misses the days when I was little. His mind is always on the future, but is sometimes impulsive. He doesn’t sleep much, but he can sleep for a while when he finally retires to the bed. He’s not as fast up and down the stairs as he used to be even just ten years ago when the regular pace of the slight jog going up the stairs has turned into a labored and offset slower paced climb up them. He expresses his emotions in weird ways like some sort of anime tsundere.

That’s my image of him now, but I know with all things this wasn’t how he always was.

I remember growing up I used to tell people I was black and they wouldn’t believe me until they saw my father. Trying to describe my father to someone who had never seen him went as follows. Well he’s a tall black guy with a mustache, who always wears a hat, and blue Boeing coveralls. He is a plumber/maintenance worker. A description closely matched by one of the world’s most famous Italian plumbers in the world. Mario. . .

Slice of Life

Although Black Mario is my father, the knowledge I have on this specimen is, only a slice of his life. Most of his existence remains shrouded in mystery.(If I ever have kids they can literally search through my teens and twenties, and even further back if I get around to scanning and uploading our photo collection) They need to hurry up with that assassins creed machine Animus please. I know his birthdate by heart thanks to all those damn how old are you things on the internet for mature games not porn I swear. I always put in my dad’s date of birth for some reason so my Xbox live account says I’m in my sixties. I always think about Alan Watt’s description about how we describe a beginning, did my father’s life start when he was born, when he was conceived, or when he was an evil gleam in his father’s eyes?

Baby Boomer

Black Mario is a baby boomer born on December 31st 1954, being part of a military family he was born on the other side of the country in Virginia. Dave and Patricia Harris. Like many, my grandfather had served in Second World War another young man thrown into a battle that shed much blood, but also brought the world together. When the war was over he was in his late teens and met a young girl from the Philippines who returned with him to the states. In the Philippines due to the lack of documentation it was possible for my grandma, who was actually 14, to lie about her age. Perhaps America was the land of opportunity  and a chance for her to seek adventure out of her small province. Due to the different cultural values of both the time and the region, it wasn’t strange for people to be settling down and having families at a young age. I mean the concept of “adulthood” is a construct created by culture. Using an arbitrary number such as one’s age to determine responsibility is pretentious, preposterous, and absurd. There was a time when people settled down much younger in life due to the short life expectancy. In other cultures the marriage ages vary to some degree as well, and for all you Christians out there, Mary was like fourteen so . . . Yeah.

Two teenagers went about raising a family . .  What could possibly go wrong?

My Grandpa was a short tempered, sharp tonged, sometimes violent man. . . God. . . He’s starting to sound like the stereo typical African American T.V. Dad. Although I imagine being in the military during war time will change you, being African American his role was limited to a cook. He was damn good at his job too often getting requests from generals and officers to have him be the one to prepare their meals. I can’t really speak much about Grandpa Dave as I know almost nothing about him.

Mark In The Middle

My dad is a younger middle child of a large family. . . 12 kids I believe, Lola tells stories of never ending cooking, cleaning, and laundry. . . My worst nightmare. . . Laundry. The values at the time consisted of a breadwinner and the stay at home mom. With limited education and the high cost of daycare what choice was there for Lola. Did she have any bigger dreams than that? For someone like me with delusions of grandeur I often forget that some people’s dreams is to provide and care for a family.

  My dad’s journey began in Virginia, where there are a lot of other Harris family groups, but I have never been to the big Harris Family reunion so they might as well be aliens with similar D.N.A. My dad himself doesn’t seem to remember much about Virginia as the earliest stories he had was the drive to Kansas itself. With no freeways, it must have been a traumatizingly long journey for a kid to remember it. When I was a kid when I thought of Kansas I thought of the Wizard of Oz and little house on the Prairie. But included in my dad’s memories are a packed station wagon full of stuff and kids. The American Road trip has some what of romanticized image.  With no smartphones the entertainment you had was the people with you and watching the world fly by you.

Kids tend to complain when enduring such things as their perspective on time is much different from a fully grown adult, since time is a relative function 1 year to a five year old is 8 times longer than it is for a forty year old. They would have complained but I imagine grandpa would probably say this when he was at the end of his nerves. “Stop complaining before I give you something to complain about”

The thought of a Parent striking a child is something that I’ve been protected and shielded from for the most part. Sometimes black Mario would spank us or give us a light tap on the head.  . . But never beat or strike us with full force. . . Apparently his dad would “beat the shit of of him” and his siblings sometimes. . .I don’t know if this extended to my grandma as well. The terrifying thought and reality of a child being abused in any way isn’t something we like to keep in our minds, but it happens  I can only wonder what kind of feelings Black Mario must be harboring about that, he never talks about anything, so that’s not how he expressed it. Perhaps in some journals in the garage somewhere I can find an answer. (Although I’m one of the people that thinks kids are too soft now a days, I mean I got spanked and I turned out somewhat fine. . . Right?)

I doubt that Black Mario has many memories before he was ten, because I’m a third of his age and I have barely anything up there, but from what I can gather about Kansas is that its flat, cold in the winter, hot in the summer, and there are tornadoes. Being stuck in the basement of a house sounds like as much fun as a being millennial in a power outage without cell service.

The Place Where I’m From

When Black Mario was in the third or fourth grade he moved to the City at the Center of my heart. The 253, T-Town, the city with the famous aroma. . . The city of Tacoma. And his family lived in the one place they could afford a home, Hilltop. Which if you’re not a local has a bad rep with being a not so good area to be in, Tacompton. Although neighborhoods were not segregated by color in essence with the way housing prices were in certain areas they might as well have been. Speaking of Black Mario experiencing racism in his youth. It’s not a matter if he did, the question is how much and when he met these challenges and from whom. Being a mixed raced Filipino sometimes it’s hard to fit in with either group and you end up in this limbo between races. Thankfully being in the pacific northwest the harsh treatment was padded to a certain extent, but not eliminated.

  I find it extremely odd that events I’ve read about in history books like the moon landing, JFK, Nixon, and all the fantastic things that were happening with the red scare and the cold war were experienced by the teenage version of Back Mario. I ought to pester him and ask him about that one day over a beer. .  . Or a joint I mean I’m in Washington let me pick my poison XD. I get these stories but, there are certain things that don’t come to the surface when hearing these stories. It’s so hard to interpret another’s worldview and the personal experiences they have that shape the way they see things. What kind of ten year old was he? A shy quiet one, or the ever rambunctious loud type. Being the younger of the boys of his family, I can speculate that he was given a lot of hand me downs, having the nickname buck(for bucktoothed) probably means he was the one getting teased by his older siblings. Being that my dad is like me and has trouble communicating and keeping friends he and my uncle Cisco or Coach were probably really close.

  One thing I know about my dad from his stories is that he is a hustla. He used to shine shoes or sell things to the businessmen of Tacoma downtown, he had a paper route, and he worked in the school cafeteria. Which has a number of benefits, extra food, free lunch, and cash. But it was probably hard for him to make friends if he was working while most kids bond over things like meals. He went to Jason Lee middle school where he played in the drum line and was a bench warmer in sports. To be honest being a black kid  in America you’re expected to come out of the womb dribbling a basketball, but luckily for black Mario he enjoyed basketball, but where he actually played the sport I have no Idea.

East Side

Sometime during the teenage years the family moved from hilltop to the East side of Tacoma. The house they lived in was very small for the amount of people that were housed there, but you have to make do with what you have.

This house is very close to the original home in east Tacoma, shown here is my uncles place

When Black Mario hit high school age he went to Stadium High school where he once again played the drums and remained on that shiny bench keeping them nice and warm for the starters. Black Mario didn’t actually graduate from stadium, although he did get his GED. During this time I have stories of him getting caught underage drinking with his stadium friends in northeast Tacoma, when apprehended by the police, he was met with the terrible consequence of pouring the beer out “I had to pour out a whole 30 rack once it was the saddest thing as the cop made us pour them out one at a time”.

When he joined the Military in 1972 as a young Kid. Often hearing his disdain of the government it’s really surprising that he would ever join the military, but I guess you can’t argue with a job with decent wages that provides meals and housing for its soldiers. Not to mention that being in the military teaches values such as work ethic, the importance of time, and some other valuable skills. Other than the whole training you to kill other human beings thing, it’s a pretty good deal. With the military he was able to go to Germany and Korea. Those memories unforgettable as he still talks about the days abroad.

My favorite story is after a night of drinking his best friend Rodney began to put his uniform on.

Black Mario: Nigga why you putting your uniform on Rodney: They serve midnight chow and you gotta be in this here uniform to get some chow. Black Mario: Hey wait for me I’ll put my uniform on too.

While he was in the military Black Mario did some real evaluating and thinking. He calculated the amount of money he got paid per hour to be a solider and compared it to what they were making at Boeing. In 1977 he was honorably discharged from the military achieving the rank of Sergeant. His stint with the military gave him priority for getting a job at Boeing. The company he’s still working for into his sixties. Unfortunately his first relationship didn’t last as long as his job, and neither did his second, but he did have kids and I got extended family members out of the relationship.(well more like they got me because I was to come later) What is a mystery to me is what he was like through the 70s and 80s.

The Big Mystery is What was he like?

His vocabulary and humor makes me feel like he experimented with drugs, I mean that 70s show and Cheech and Chong are funny for most people, but the green guys n gals find it more funny. He and his friend Bobby used to Deejay, but what kind of records did he spin house, hip hop, disco, techno? We get snippets of the music he liked, Funk, Disco, Old school Rap, disco. Did he like dancing and stuff going to the discos?

Having owned a Harley, a Firebird, and some other cars like an RX7, he must have enjoyed motorsports as much as I did.

I think he was a geek, because I remember he had a NES, a Nintendo entertainment system, and so many nerdy toys from the late 80s that he has to be a nerd. Not to mention he beat the Mario Arcade Game, he knew the Pacman Pattern at one point, and he is insanely good at Bullet Hell games. I felt like he went to the bar and played the arcade games and pool, more than socializing or drinking. His memorabilia includes Transformers, and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, so like me he was a grown man who watched cartoons did he read comic books as well?

Family Guy

My dad has fond memories involving my three cousins Ja’nielle, Jarod, and Jon Jon, where he was that cool, weird uncle who lived next door. There was probably a part of him that longed for that family life after his relationships didn’t work out as he had hoped.

Life changed for Black Mario when he went to either a party or a bar one night, he would encounter the most dangerous thing known to man. . . A pretty Woman.

If anyone wants to learn about where I come from this is an article that's about a millenial kid thinking about his boomer dad #babyboomer #millenial #family #kids #dad #father #black #mario #autobiography #tacoma Trinkets of a Different Time As a kid I remember rifling through my dad's nightstand to find small pocket knives, trinkets, and various other personal articles.