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trojanteapot · 1 year

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i saw ur infinity train classpects & ive always thought of simon as a hope player (specifically prince of hope) & i was wondering why u classpected him as a mind player. idk if i had jst never considered tht possibility but he jst seems SO much like a hope player to me that it threw me off a bit

similarly, i read amelia as a prince of doom instead of a maid of doom (she destroys the rules of the train in an obsessive & need to try and destroy her aspect within the train and - as a result - create life [alrick] etc etc) & i was also interested on why u went w maid of doom when she seems to actively turn away from her doom & suffering to destroy it

ALL of that to say that i just wanna hear more of ur thoughts on infinity train classpects

Thank you for your question!

***First of all I want to say that classpects are designed to be like zodiacs or the Myers Briggs things are are meant to be very flexible and vague and open to interpretation.***

So I think that whatever you think fits the character, go for it!

I can of course expand on my own thoughts about what I decided. And obviously we can disagree. This is all just for fun.

So as I said in my post a lot of how I ultimately decided on the classpect was based on the characters' personal journey or character arc. And for me, the Maid of Doom felt the most in line for Amelia, and likewise Seer of Mind for Simon.

Both these characters are antagonists, one of them a reformed one, and the other one that died a villain, and that also makes them extremely complex and even harder to pin down with character arcs than say, Lake and their very clear arc that they have as a protagonist.

Amelia:

First off, I think you have a point! Perhaps we can read her actions as attempting to destroy doom, or create life! One of my friends were thinking Amelia could be a Sylph of Life, and that also makes sense for her. But what made me think that she is actually a Maid of Doom (or perhaps a Sylph, it's still up for debate) is because I think she needs to accept her own doom instead of reject it, and it was because of that that she started healing and moving away from her obsession with recreating her old life, which kept failing anyway.

It's possible that you could be more on point than me, we didn't see Amelia get her own season where she is the star of the show so we will never know.

Simon:

So I know 100% that I read Simon very differently from the rest of the fandom.

Everyone sees him as an egomaniac and a stubborn idiot who can't change his mind. And I agree that he was those things by the end. But he wasn't always those things! (Well okay he was always a stubborn idiot lol)

People tend to think that his Episode 10 personality was his "true self" but that wasn't how I saw it. I think that was more of him lashing out or having an explosive temper tantrum or meltdown, and not his real self. He was acting in a way that was almost a parody of Grace before her redemption, not as an exaggeration of himself.

Like I said before, because Amelia and Simon spent most of the time not understanding the Train properly and not learning from their mistakes, I believe that means their aspects need to reflect something about them that they wouldn't see in themselves or others might not see in them. And for Simon I feel that way more strongly than for Amelia.

Another reason why I sorta don't like classifying Simon as a prince is because it feels way too obvious. I blame Dirk Strider for this mostly, but the Prince class (and to a lesser extent the Thief class due to Vriska and Meenah) always gets assigned to villains. But I think any class can act in a villainous way. Seers can be just as much a villain as Princes can be. And Aranea showed that a Sylph can behave villainously too.

Besides I don't think Simon has a big ego, I think he has a fragile ego and is overprotective of it (like most cis men but that's a whole nother topic). And his actions in the last 4 episodes of season 3 really reflect that.

And I can also see why you saw Simon as having the Hope aspect because he was adamant in his belief in the ideology of the Apex and didn't want to change. But I would argue that wasn't due to his Aspect but due to his role as a Seer. His character arc isn't just about his stubborn beliefs but WHY he couldn't change his mind from his beliefs. And I think it's because he doesn't understand other people, and not only because he is super attached to his ideology. Grace was just as attached to the ideology of the Apex as Simon was at the beginning of season 3, but she was able to change her mind because she could understand others, specifically other denizens, whereas Simon failed because he couldn't. It was an empathy gap.

Another thing is that there are actually many parallels between Simon and the two canonical seers in Homestuck (let's not count Kankri he was a bit player). And I'm gonna get into more detail on that.

Simon and Terezi:

I actually made an entire PowerPoint presentation for my friends that had a whole section on inexplicable parallels between the two of them! And that was before I thought "hey wait a minute maybe Simon is also a seer of mind!" But basically these are the following parallels

Both of them have a rigid system for interacting with other people. For Terezi it's to LARP the role that her ancestor had as a legislacerator, and treating everything as some sort of crime scene investigation or court cross examination. For Simon, he wrote an entire manual on the best practices for the Apex when dealing with survival situations in the Train. As well as treating everything as a military engagement.

Both of them play with dolls. I think this is manifesting in how they try to gauge the movitations of other people. Terezi uses plushies to act out roles in an investigation to help her find out more about the motives of who she deems a "suspect". Simon also uses his figurines as units in a battle. He would have different figurines represent the Apex kids or denizens. Also in an attempt to understand the best way to deal with situations.

And this also means both of them can get carried away with their rules and games and miss the forest for the trees. As in, come to the wrong initial conclusion, and then stick to it until it's too late. People tend to forget that one of the pivotal moments of Homestuck was that Terezi didn't realize there were several murderers when the trolls were stuck on the asteroid and blamed it all on Vriska. That led to Terezi having to kill her, but it was the incorrect decision (which Terezi told John to fix with his retcon magic).

Both Simon and Terezi seem to really fixate on one image they have of someone they care about, and be unwilling to change how they see them. Even after a betrayal of trust both of them find it difficult to let go of their past idea of the person. (Simon and the Cat, Terezi and Vriska). Of course, it went a bit differently with Simon and his attachment to Grace, but that wasn't due to Grace having hidden motives (it was part of it though) but her changing her entire worldview.

Here's the thing, so Terezi was really really good at being a Seer so clearly that's why it's so hard to see Simon as having the same classpect as her. But lets examine a different seer, Rose.

Rose was terrible at being a seer at first, until she went god tier and was kinda forced to actually fulfill her seer role. She displayed a shocking amount of black and white thinking and stubbornness for somebody whose role was supposedly to gather knowledge and strategize. And here we understand why Simon can be read as a Seer of Mind, because he fucks up being that role just as much as Rose fucks up being a Seer of Light (initially).

Simon and Rose:

Like Simon, Rose had an entire idea about what the game Sburb was supposed to do, and what she and her friends roles must be by playing the game. But she was actually wrong about the game, since her session was never meant to be successful. But instead of accepting that and moving forward, even after prodding from Kanaya, Vriska, and the White Queen, she still refused to listen to them and kept doing whatever she felt was correct.

In fact, Rose's first death at the hands of Jack Noir kind of parallels Simon's own death. Rose was being very stubborn about the way she was doing things in Sburb, not making much progress as a seer, and refusing to listen to dissenting voices. She decided to look inside the white cue ball for answers even though she was told that it wouldn't be a good idea. She kind of got manipulated into doing so by Doc Scratch, and also to a lesser extent when Jade told her to try it not knowing what it would lead to. And that made Rose literally go grimdark when she saw her mom and John's dad were killed by Jack and then decided to go kill him as vengeance, despite being utterly outmatched.

This is similar to the situation when Simon couldn't understand why Grace was pulling away from him, and why she was so afraid of him after he killed Tuba (from his perspective, he and Grace have done this countless times before and she didn't react the way she did in those instances). And so he sought out a way to peer into her mind from the Cat. The Cat plays an equivalent role in Infinity Train as Doc Scratch does in Homestuck. They're both devious and conniving puppet masters with their own agendas. But the Cat is also familiar with Simon, and tried to help him but without full information, just like what Jade did for Rose. And that lead to Simon going "grimdark!"

Anyway those are just my dumb rambles. Honestly I'm sure that it has convinced nobody.

But hey, what we classpect characters as is less about the character themselves and more about ourselves really.

I don't think you would find this helpful but maybe you can just cringe at me instead!

Hopefully it was at least.... Entertaining?

#infinity train #classpects #classpect analysis #simon laurent #amelia hughes

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alexaplaysgames · 3 years

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Pairing: Felix Escellun x GN!MC

Fandom: Fictif (Last Legacy)

Rating: T (swearing, dorks making out)

Words: ~2600

Description: Felix and his barista explore his childhood home.

Notes: Felix has all my uwus 🥺 did not post five fics in one day (yet) but I might if convinced.

Thanks to @callioops for the inspiration :)

Please go easy on me I am in no way a fanfiction writer by nature but my love for Felix has evidently overpowered my insecurities ;)

Edit: Uhh.... I was debating between settings for this and realized I made it super ambiguous, so I’ve edited it now!

Warning: This is heavily canon divergent now. Oops.

I’m not even sure how I ended up here, to be quite honest.

But I would’ve had to be crazy to have predicted such a thing- a portal to another dimension (is this another dimension?), a towering manor overflowing with stuffy furniture and servants, a raven-haired goth (although he would protest to such a description) with a bird skull strung around his neck. Honesty, his fashion sense is questionable, though admittedly charming, but I nonetheless can’t seem to get him out of my head.

No, this is the stuff of fantasies born to the insane, of perhaps just the slightly deranged.

I’m not protesting, however, quite the contrary. As I pull Felix through the winding corridors of his childhood home, trying not to thing about the smooth softness of his cool hand in mine, I can honestly say that I haven’t had such fun in a very, very long time.

“Stop, stop!” Felix laughingly protests between laboured breaths, tugging on my hand. I gradually slow to a halt, our footsteps echoing in the large, surprising empty corridor, and Felix slips his hand from mine to brace his hands on his knees as he pants. I try to ignore the resulting disappointment that pangs in my chest and grin.

“You doing okay there, bird boy?”

Apparently, he still has the energy to raise his head and glare.

“My apologies, dear barista, that I have not your physical endurance.” He rolls his eyes, then pauses and smirks. “My being a magical prodigy has spared me the effort of such trivial things as exercise.” He spits the last word out with a scoff.

My grin widens as I saunter closer, placing a finger under his chin to raise his gaze to meet mine from where he is still bent over and panting.

“Perhaps we’ll just have to work on your stamina then, won’t we?”

Felix’s cheeks flush that pretty red that I know has nothing to do with exertion as he ducks his head. I smirk as I turn to examine the nearby wall, giving him time to collect himself. How fun it is to make him blush.

A row of framed paintings lines the wall, all of the equally bizarre. I try to make sense of the faces in them, but the harder I look, the more blurred they become. They are all covered in a discernible layer of dust, indicating that this hallway is rarely used. A peculiar sort of coldness rolls off of the strange pieces, one that has me averting my eyes from the freaky, obviously magically concealed paintings.

“Do you think anyone will find us here?”

I question as I turn to see Felix straightening and running a hand through his hair. I try not to let my eyes follow the motion, choosing instead to meet his icy gray gaze.

He seems perturbed as he looks around, biting his lip. It’s as if he’s just realized where we are. His fault for letting me lead him through the monstrous maze that is his home.

“No. Escell has not entered this corridor in years. I’m surprised he has not blocked it off. He rather enjoys avoiding all things that make him uncomfortable.”

“And what makes him uncomfortable about this wing?”

“Too many memories, my dear. Memories he would prefer to keep locked up.” Though he says it with a smirk, tapping one black-painted fingernail against his temple, it comes out only as sounding rather sad.

I open my mouth to reply, but am interrupted by a sharp-

“Master Felix! Enough with your foolish hiding!”

Felix’s eyes widen as he visibly flinches. “Great goddess, have mercy.”

The voice of Madam Usoro, an angry, mean, lump of a woman, sounds like it is coming from just down the long hall. I cringe inwardly, and probably outwardly, at the thought of meeting her again. According to Felix, she was one of his many childhood nannies (the only one that actually managed to survive his torments), and judging by her scowl, she hasn’t had a “me day” since then.

Unfortunately, Escell also assigned her the task of watching over Felix.

“Ridiculous,” he huffs, “it is as if I am nine years old again!”

My gaze darts frantically between the doors lining the walls, not sure where any of them lead.

I grab Felix’s sleeve and tug, though his eyes stay trained on the end of the hallway, his expression resigned.

“Felix!” I hiss, “which of these goddamn doors will get us out of here?”

He merely sighs. “Why bother? My inevitable capture fast approaches, thus I have decided to be accepting of my fate. I will remain here as a prisoner for the rest of my days while Escell continues to treat me like a babbling infant.”

Great. Now really isn’t the time for his dramatics. I lunge forward and lock my hand around his wrist, tugging him once more down the endless corridor of doors. I feel Felix stiffen as I go to open the first door that catches my eye, but I yank it open and pull him inside before he can protest. The door shuts with a satisfying click and we are alone in a strange, dark room.

“Felix?” I cannot see a thing.

A flash of light, and then Felix appears, a green

orb of light glowing in his palm. I suck in a breath as I take in the captivating way the light hits his features, highlighting his long eyelashes and silvery eyes.

“Apologies! I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

I shake my head, unable to divulge to him the truth. I can’t have him knowing about my strange infatuation. Though I often indulge in what I consider to be harmless flirtation, I know Felix obviously isn’t interested in me. Just days ago he was crying over me, thinking I was someone else! The thought is sobering, and I shake my head.

“What is this room?”

“Ah,” he appears uncharacteristically lost for words. “This is... nothing. We can wait here, I’m certain she’ll cease her endless badgering soon enough.”

I send him a thumbs up before I turn to examine the room. I might as well look around, if there’s nothing else to do but sit around.

“Wait!” Felix’s sharp cry is especially harsh in the quiet of the strange room.

My head jerks up. “What is it?”

“I simply think it best not to carelessly voyage through the uncertainties of the dark. You haven’t a clue what you could stumble upon.”

Something about his tone sounds off, but I sigh and move back towards the door anyway. I have learned that there is no use arguing with him.

I’m almost near the safe haven of Felix’s orb of light when my foot slips on something. I manage to catch myself, but lean down and pick up the offensive item out of curiosity.

It’s a bound, leather notebook. It looks worn, from what I can tell in the faint light, and I flip it open to the inside cover, ignoring Felix’s faint protests in the back of my mind. On the right page are lines of scrawling, messy and unintelligible handwriting. But that’s not what catches my eye. On the left, the page reads:

Property of Felix Iskandar Escellun

I lift my gaze to meet Felix’s guilty visage.

“This is yours?”

He cringes but attempts to hide it with a shrug. The movement does not at all look natural on him.

“You are aware I was raised here?” He snatches the journal out of my grasp with his free hand, then quirks a brow. “Why are you surprised to find an object previously in my possession?”

Felix is an atrocious liar. I glance around the room and suddenly it hits me where we are.

“This was your bedroom, wasn’t it?”

Although Felix is, I assume, currently staying somewhere else, his reaction leaves me with no doubt in my mind that this used to be his room.

Felix bites his lip (he really needs to stop doing that lest I get distracted) then slowly nods. With another sigh, he presses his palms together, then spreads them apart until green light flows throughout the room, the night vision goggle-like effect making it look like we’re on an episode of ghost hunters.

“I would rather not spend time sifting through old memories,” Felix says quietly from beside me as I observe my surroundings.

The room is relatively sparsely decorated. In the centre of the opposite wall is a large, canopy bed, the sheets tossed to the side and the curtains haphazardly thrown about. A large desk is pressed up against one wall, overflowing with notebooks and stacks of parchment, and a bookcase on the opposite wall is spilling over with messily arranged books. A large, elegant armchair is piled high with odd boxes near the middle of the room, and an open armoire is empty save for a pile of clothing laying at the bottom. The whole place is a mess, and though the furniture is very fine, Felix’s attempts to hide that fact are quite obvious. The few windows are boarded up, the curtains surrounding them singed. In fact, there are several odd burn marks on the floor, and I don’t think they’re due to the large stone fireplace.

“Wow.” Very eloquent of me to say.

“Ugh. I despise this room.”

I drift curiously about making note of the objects in the room. Aside from the pieces of writing, there is very little here to signify that the room was Felix’s.

I walk over to the window and am pleased to find the the large wooden board covering it is relatively easy to dislodge. Behind it, there is a window seat, and I glance out the window to see a view of the rolling hills that stretch far and beyond, illuminated by the moonlight.

Felix flops onto the window seat with a sigh. I sit beside him and try to ignore the fact that our knees touch.

Felix squeezes his eyes shut. “I apologize for my theatrics, dear barista, but I would truly rather leap off the highest tower of the castle of Porrima than suffer through living in this room again.”

I refrain from telling him that I did, in fact, almost leap off the castle’s highest tower, and it is not as fun as he makes it out to be.

He hardly ever speaks of his past without flippant disregard for true emotion. “Will you tell me why it was so bad, Felix?”

His eyes shoot open and he scoffs, though his eyes glisten in the moonlight which shines through the window.

His voice is small as he replies. “I was forced every day to live a life I hated in hopes of pleasing a father whose love I already knew I would never earn. I have never felt so useless, so pathetically desperate, as I felt here. And here I am, back again. All my work to escape this place has been for naught.”

My heart aches for him, the expression on his face causing a physical pain in my chest.

“Felix...” I say softly, and before I even register what I’m doing, my hand is grabbing his.

Felix meets my gaze, eyes wide. Every time I touch him he gets so surprised, and I wonder how often he has been touched lovingly in his life.

“I would never think you useless, Felix, never. You are so extraordinary, so brilliant, and it’s a shame that you can’t see it. You have done so much for me and... I need you. Not just to get home, I don’t even know if I care about that anymore, but because you’ve make me so happy, Felix. Being with you feels like being able to breathe. I know that everyone else has left you, but I promise you, I never will. Never.”

His lips part in shock at my words and this time I can’t stop my eyes from flickering down to his mouth. He is so beautiful. I would do anything to kiss him, even just once.

Felix raises his hand and his fingers draw lines down my cheek, making me shiver. Then he leans forward and presses his forehead against mine, closing his eyes.

“Thank you.”

The words are said so quietly that I barely hear them, but I don’t need to with the gratitude that seems to roll off of him in waves.

“Felix?”

“Hm?”

A pause.

“Do you ever think about me?”

“I... I- of course I do. You have consumed every aspect of my waking life.” I can hear a slight teasing in his voice.

I lick my lips. “Do you ever think of me like you think of Rime?”

I can feel him flinch at the name and am about to apologize before he speaks.

“Rime is gone. A necromancer knows better than to waste energy attempting to recall what has been truly lost.”

“Oh... I-“

He sounds so incredibly sad. Whoever Rime is, I’ve no doubt that Felix loved this person. Though I know I shouldn’t feel jealous of a dead person, envy ripples through my stomach all the same.

“I... do. Think about you.”

And the meaning has changed. He pulls back with a shaky breath, cheeks bright red. “I know I am not the most naturally affectionate person, but I-“

He thinks about me. My heart does a fluttering little happy dance at the thought.

Screw it. If I leave this world, I don’t want to have any regrets.

And that’s the thought that propels me forward as I crash my lips into his with a longing I have never before felt. Felix gasps against my mouth and stiffens, and I panic. What the hell am I doing? But no sooner has the thought left my mind then he relaxes and kisses me back. He kisses me back! And I’ve never felt anything more wonderful.

His hands come to set at my waist as mine cup his face, feeling his jaw work as he kisses me and that makes it all the more real that he is kissing me and this isn’t some sort of fervour dream. I pull his hair free from its tie and tangle my fingers in the silken locks of his hair, and god, it’s just as soft as I thought I would be.

Felix kisses like he talks- a little hestitant, full of passion, and enough to make your head spin. It feels like I’m falling, I don’t know which way it’s up and which is down, just like when he rambles on about spells I could never hope to comprehend, but the drop is thrilling because I’ve wanted it so badly and for so long. At first it’s slow, soft, but I want, so I press myself harder against him in effort to let him know that’s it’s okay for him to let himself take from me what he needs.

HIs hands tighten around my waist as he pulls me closer to him, hands drifting over my sides, and I smile against his lips at his momentary display of forwardness. I retaliate by tugging on his hair that flows between my fingers like water, causing his lips to part against mine as he gasps, the perfect opportunity to slip my tongue into his mouth and I’m worried that I’m moving too fast but he moans. I sling a leg over his thigh and we’re grabbing at each other like horny teenagers now-

Felix pulls away with a gasp (I knew we had to work on his stamina). We’re both breathing hard, echoing in the quiet of the large room, and he blinks rapidly; he looks rather like someone hit him over the head with a brick.

I smile at him, running a thumb over his lower lip, and he lets out a pained noise somewhere between a whimper and a squeak.

“I liked that,” I whisper.

“You- you did?”

I nod. “Of course, Felix. I’ve been wanting to kiss you for so long.”

“R-really?”

I roll my eyes, responding by leaning forward and pressing another chaste kiss to his lips.

“Me too.” He whispers it like a secret, one that I’ll gladly hold forever in my heart.

Felix tentatively reaches and takes my hand in his, flipping it over and drawing little patterns into my palm as he turns to stare out the window again. It’s soothing, and I don’t really pay attention to the patterns. But after a while I think he starts inadvertently drawing hearts into my skin. It’s rather cute; I didn’t take him for a romantic.

“Master Felix!” The voice sounds from not too far outside Felix’s bedroom door.

“Shit.”

I’m afraid I don’t possess his way with words.

Our eyes meet and we both burst into a fit of giggles as the sounds of Madam Usoro’s footsteps gets louder. Trapped as we are, she’s bound to find us soon. Somehow, I’m not worrried. Nothing could ever take Felix from me.

And he knows that I will never leave him.

#Felix Iskandar Escellun #Felix Escellun #Fictif #Fictif Last Legacy #Last Legacy #Last Legacy Fanfiction #fanfiction #interactive game #Felix Escellun x mc

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mentallydatingahotcelebrity · 3 years

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LOKI SHOW AU:

Sylvie is a 16/17 year old character called “Nokka” (which is Norse feminine for No One). Loki reluctantly takes her under his wing when he meets her. After some time running from the TVA, and dealing with issues where Nokka “wants revenge” but struggles with hurting people when it comes down to it (esp from the TVA because she knows they’re all mind-controlled variants) Loki sits her down and demands to know the truth “because for a Loki you’re a terrible liar”.

Nokka admits/reveals that she’s NOT a Loki at all, just an Asgardian orphan who messed with the time-stream by accident (overhearing Loki tell a guard to inform Odin Thor was going to Jotunheim and running ahead to tell the Allfather when the soldier sneered at Loki’s back or smth else trivial). Loki asks her why she never chose a name for herself aside from what others gave her, and she says she didn’t really have time while being on the run to think of anything but Loki.

Loki is semi touched by this (but says nothing). (Nokka wistfully mentions in passing that while hiding on Midgard she heard the name Sylvie and thought it was nice too). Loki comforts her with a bit of awkwardness, then announces he’s going to help her with her powers and how to fight “less like an alley cat and more like a warrior from Asgard”. He also tells her that if she truly wants vengeance, she’s going to have to kill people. Nokka rebuts this with the declaration that she’s already killed people—citing those she’s had to kill to survive. Loki acknowledges that, but states that those killings are different from what she’s going to have to do if they want to win and get out with their lives.

(Aside: Kang wants Loki captured because OG Loki is different from the rest of his variant selves because he ADAPTS and grows his personality and character—whereas other Lokis do not. Kang feels OG Loki and Nokka are a threat to his rule, and he wants to permanently erase them to keep his rule over the Timeline secure)

Loki and Nokka make their way through the worlds and pull off a heist and crash the TVA with Mobius’s help. Ravonna prunes Mobius and Nokka out of rage and bitterness for destroying the order/TVA she loves—Loki, though he could escape, prunes himself too (showing how he can change his character from the other variants of himself).

In The Void, Loki stumbles among other loki variants, and finds Nokka moping by herself in one corner of Kid Loki’s underground palace. At the same time, Mobius arrives and busts them out of “Loony Loki Jail”. Impressed and amused, once they’re safe Loki asks how Mobius found them. The TVA agent declares that he found a trail of “complete and utter chaos, and followed that”. The trio share a laugh over this before growing solemn and trying to figure out what to do. Loki discusses Alioth and the strange energy the monster gives off, as well as the malevolent eternal purple mist. Mobius makes the offhand remark about going into it, or Nokka using her “wacky mind-controlling powers” on Alioth to get passed the giant to explore the mist.

Nokka hedges, nervous because she’s never controlled anything that big before. She walks away to sit by herself, staring out at the undulating violet mist. Loki likes the plan and irons out some details with Mobius before wandering down to Nokka. He sits beside her silently. Nokka announces “you can’t manipulate me like Thor—no Jotunheim trip 2: This Time Alioth.” Loki agrees that he can’t. Nokka smiles but hugs her knees to her chest with a shiver, rocking slowly. Loki asks what’s wrong—if she’s scared. Nokka shakes her head “just cold”. Loki magicks a blanket and gives it to her kindly, petting her hair (in a dad way lmao). They sit in silence staring at the mist. Loki quietly messes around beside her, magicking knives and bracers and other small pieces of armor for himself (we’ll give him an Asgardian tunic somewhere along the line because BURN the fugly TVA clothes). Nokka glances at him as he does this. Loki catches her and they share Looks.

Nokka shrugs and turns away. Carefully, as he cleans a dagger with a cloth, Loki wonders about two people controlling Alioth. Nokka eyes him warily. Loki briefly demonstrates/elaborates on how he can reveal or illuminate thoughts and parts of the mind, but can’t control it like she can. He quietly declares that if she shows him how, perhaps they can do it together. Nokka hesitates, but agrees.

So Mobius goes to distract Alioth. Classic Loki sees this (and as the only one actually paying attention to Nokka and OG Loki, runs in to help, doing the same thing he did in the show, allowing Mobius to escape). Nokka falters with the mind control, but Loki takes her hand and encourages her (insert some witty line about “only learning that day himself, after all”) and Nokka presses on. They succeed, and stare at a pathway through the mist.

Loki glances at Nokka, and tells her to “lead the way”. Grinning, but quickly sobering, Nokka heads toward the path. Mobius catches up to Loki then, and informs Loki he’s going back to the TVA to “raise more hell”. Loki grins, and Mobius “thanks him for the spark” like in the show. They embrace (to Loki’s surprise) before Loki follows Nokka. Mobius watches them until they disappear into the mist and then summons an orange portal and vanishes himself.

Walking through the mist, Nokka declares something “off”, and Loki agrees “like being laid in ambush”. Unsettled, they continue—but draw blades. At last they reach a half-burned and dilapidated castle at the edge of a cosmos. They come up to the black doors but nothing happens. Nokka blasts the doors off their hinges, increasingly paranoid. Loki criticizes the action but they proceed anyway. (Everything basically happens as in the show, but Kang is Not Friendly—menacing and ominous (think horror movie character—something off but not obvious) due to him wanting to destroy both Loki and Nokka). Loki catches on before Nokka to Kang’s intentions, and stands, lashing out at Kang. Nokka is confused and feels lied to (let’s say there’s some truth twisted into lies Kang said about Loki “and his lust for power” so she feels uncertain). A fight ensues between Kang and Loki but Kang uses Loki’s Frost Giant heritage against him. Kang says he’d accept Nokka as a protégé “because I’ve watched you—you’re teachable” but wants her to kill Loki “to prove she’s not as worthless as he is”.

Loki looks at her as she walks up to him, and he tells her “you only grow as far as you allow people to cage you” (or some other philosophical elegant line). Making the realization that Nokka will truly be just an imitation of all the other Loki variants if she kills Loki for her own self-succession, she drops the knife and instead frees Loki from whatever magical/enchanted snare Kang got him into. Kang lashes out, but Loki jumps up in front of Nokka, and takes whatever blow it was (maybe permanent obliviation, maybe transport to another timeline idk yet). Looking triumphant at the empty room, Kang turns around and wanders back to his desk “another mess all cleared up” he hums to himself.

Nokka appears out of the shadows and grabs his arm as he moves to sit, whirling Kang around. Angrily, tears in her eyes, she stabs him twice in the chest with one of Loki’s daggers he’d dropped. Kang collapses back into his chair, and laughs at her. He says some things about his alternate selves being even more cruel than him, that he’s “a kitten” in comparison, and she’ll never defeat them—“just a little nobody. Doomed to fail because you don’t have a name to be remembered by. A No One.” Nokka stoops over him, wielding Loki’s knife.

“I’m not no one—I’m Sylvie. Lokidottir.” She stabs Kang. After he dies, she wanders to the window, staring out at the splintering multiverse. She collapses, crying, because she’s alone. “You promised we’d win together,” she whispers to herself, a little broken.

(Opening to Consider for a potential Part II: a large flash of green out in the multiverse. Sylvie jerks her head up and stares—before grinning.)

Some notes:

The whole “love yourself” angle in this AU of the show is Loki learns to care for Sylvie even when she lashes out—and treats her as he would have wanted to be treated when he lashed out.

Kang is Not Nice. He’s not as bad as other versions of himself, but he is absolutely the bad guy in this AU.

Loki isn’t an idiot. Full stop. And he uses magic A LOT.

Loki takes a mentor role in this. HE IS THE MAIN CHARACTER, and Sylvie is a secondary role that morphs into an MC. He doesn’t get run over by Sylvie’s girl!pain backstory.

Sylvie isn’t a shitty annoying asshole kween. She’s a scared teenager. She’s not capable of huge fights or dumb shit like the canon shitshow.

This is Very Much a sibling or father/daughter relationship between Loki and Sylvie. No romance. PLATONIC ONLY!!!!

The TVA is EVIL. Not “a necessary evil” but completely, absolutely, reprehensibly evil. Autocratic and fascist, if you will. The interrogation Loki endures in the first episode (and then with Sif in episode ???) will be framed as torture.

Can’t really think of a faceclaim to the Nokka/Sylvie character (cuz DiMartino would be WAAAY too old for this one). But I’m thinking like a young Maia Mitchell or Mackenzie Foy type teenager. Gotta be brunette—cuz the blonde is stupid as shit and makes no sense. We want a Lady Loki lookalike here, folks (even if she’s NOT Loki; Nokka made herself APPEAR like him after taking his name so she could to be called one of his variants).

This makes room for a Loki “replacement” so Hiddleston could bow out, AND makes it “feministy” for the ladies; but ALSO allows for GOOD WRITING and Loki to keep his dignity/agency as a main character/antihero.

This whole thing was fully and completely inspired by this song while I drove home from work:

youtube

@fast-and-the-curious what say u to this AU?

#anti loki #the shitshow: a rewrite

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wonderland-in-bloom · 4 years

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riddle, ace, deuce, and malleus watching a meteor shower w/ the reader

anon asked: hi! may i request hcs for a reader who's a super nerd for everything related to space and stars (as in. they'd talk about it for literal Hours if u'd let them) dragging out their friend (who maaybe has a crush on them lol) ace, deuce, riddle and malleus to stargaze after hearing there's gonna be a meteor shower that night, perhaps from astronomy class? how would they react, would they enjoy such an activity + how would they deal with such an excitable and odd person such as the reader? tysm!! 💖

im bacccccccc from deeeeeeeed,, hey guys how are y’all doing? i think this will be the last request i’ll do before i focus my attention on the summer beach bash writing collab event held by the amazing, the lovely @nonsensical-twistedriddles anyways i hope you all are doing alright and enjoy these headcanons ❤️

for a better visual/image of what the meteor shower is like, refer to kimi no na wa or episode 6 of violet evergarden “somewhere, under a starry sky”

headcanons under the cut :))

riddle rosehearts

being the dorm leader of heartslabyul means that he’s always busy and he has tons of things to do, so when you first approached him he was a little hesitant

“i....i don’t know (y/n)...” “pleaseeeeeeee”

you gave him your signature ‘cute puppy dog eyes’ and that was when he knew he couldn’t resist, so he agreed

that night he was surprised to find himself in a hill at the back of the school. you had laid out a blanket and brought a couple of pillows and a telescope just in case. a couple books about the whole meteor shower, and books about stars and space in general were sprawled across the grass as well

“ah riddle! you’re on time!” “of course. those who are late have to be taught a lesson”

you patted the empty space next to you and he sat down beside you

“i’ve actually read about tonight’s meteor shower in one of my books. it happens once every 300 years! i’m just getting super duper excited just thinking about it! the fact that i get to see a comet that happens once in 300 years! aaaah! it’s amazing!”

personally, riddle didn’t know too much about comets or meteors or just astronomy. he just knew what he needed to learn for the subject. but seeing you being so happy and hyped about the meteor shower made him want to learn more

as you continued to ramble, riddle let out a small chuckle, causing you to focus your attention on him

“sorry, sorry. it’s just...you’re so cute rambling about these things. please tell me more.”

riddle saw a light in your eyes as they seemed to sparkle and you continued

he didn’t really understand half of the things you were saying but he enjoyed it

“and...and then it said that-” your sentence got cut off as the meteor shower started. an array of colors filled the sky as the sight before your eyes was the most beautiful thing you’ve seen

you stood up and just gazed at the whole thing in amazement, riddle followed but half of the time, he was looking at you. he was amazed at how passionate you were in this and how he wants to see you smile like this all the time

“(y/n). thank you for inviting me.” “it’s no problem, really!” “they say that when two people who are truly in love are together gazing at a meteor shower...their love for each other will be known to both and it will continue to grow.”

riddle blushed and so did you. were you saying...?

“well it’s just an old legend, though. we should head back.”

the next day in class, riddle approached you out of nowhere and handed you something. it was a crystal necklace in the shape of a star

“i really hope there’s another meteor shower soon. and i want you to come along with me.” he smiled before quickly running to his own class.

and as the legend went, after spending time with riddle during that meteor shower, your love for each other grew and grew

ace trappola

“haaah? a meteor shower? what’s so interesting about that?” “oh come on ace! you owe me one anyways! remember that one time-” “okay! okay! i’ll go.”

truth be told, ace really doesn’t mind doing anything and going anywhere as long as you were there. but his big ego doesn’t allow him to agree that easily.

you were both snuck into the astronomy classroom and went out the window to the balcony. a perfect view of the meteor shower

“what’s so cool about this meteor shower, anyways?” “a lot of things actually!” you continued to ramble on about it

ace could care less about space, stars, meteors, all that jazz, but since you were the one talking about it, he really doesn’t mind. there was one sentence which grabbed his attention though

“tonight’s meteor shower is called ‘the falling stars’” “what? so like...stars come falling from space? or is it just one big ass star?” “no! it’s called ‘the falling stars’ because they say if you make a wish while gazing at the meteors, it’ll come true.”

“what the-that’s all-” “ace! it’s starting!”

he glanced up at the sky, and truth be told, he never saw a scene as beautiful as that. it was really as if the stars from the sky were falling down.

“it lasts only for three minutes! hurry up and make your wish!” he turned his head to face you and saw your eyes closed and face scrunched up. some wish. “alright then~”

once the meteor shower ended you giddily asked ace what his wish was

“hmm...maybe i’ll tell you someday.” “what?! why not tell me now?!” “my wish is something you should figure out on your own.” “what?! hey! that’s not fair! ace! wait for me!”

the next day, ace was delighted to find you skipping through the hallways with a bright smile on your face

“good morning guys!” you smiled to your two best friends. “what’s with the smile, (y/n)?” deuce asked you. “nothing! just feeling happy.” “so my wish did come true.” ace whispered to himself.

“what did you say?” “nothing. now let’s get to class.” “ow! ace that hurt!” “it was just a playful slap, you big baby.”

now what was ace’s wish, you may ask?

i wish for (y/n) to always be happy, and to let me see her beautiful smile on her face each day

deuce spade

“what!? it’s tonight?!” “jeez you never keep your eyes open in astronomy class, do you? but yes! it’s tonight. so we should go together, okay?”

you and deuce were known to be the chaotic, nerd-like duo over these things. you were much more invested than deuce however, but he just likes to listen to you talk about it.

he helped you up the roof of the ramshackle dorm where you both could get a good view of the sky

truth be told, you were trembling a bit. heights weren’t your thing and now here you were sitting on top of a roof which could’ve collapsed any second.

you clung onto deuce’s arm, causing him to blush slightly but he assured you that you both were going to be fine

the sky changed from a dull dark blue to a bright, glowing purple and light blue, and you both knew that the meteor shower started

“it’s...beautiful.” the both of you whispered in amazement. you and deuce just stayed up talking about astronomy and how the both of you got interested in it as the meteor shower continued.

“you know something about this meteor shower?” deuce shook his head. “...no? what?”

“it says that you’re granted good luck if you’re under the sky of this meteor shower.” “that means everyone in night raven college gets good luck huh?”

“i don’t know. it’s not specific! they didn’t even say how long the luck lasts or...yeah. it’s just not specific. it’s just an old saying anyways.” you and deuce laughed.

you both felt something slip under your feet. “uh oh.” it was a roof tile.

this caused you both to slide from your position and started tumbling down the roof.

“deuce! do something! summon something soft so we don’t fall!” “u-uhhh, okay!”

it was his and your safety in his hands so he prayed that he was able to come up with something appropriate

“i summon...a big fluffy pillow!” you and deuce managed to fall off the roof without any harm and landed on the pillow, slightly bouncing even

you both laughed in relief as the both of you were okay. “hey, you managed to summon something good!” “well..maybe it’s the good luck from the meteor shower.”

“and you know, i’m feeling pretty lucky. so...i can do this.” he leaned in and pecked your cheek. your cheeks instantly burned up as you buried your face in your arms.

“deuce you idiot! you should consider being lucky that i don’t slap the heck out of you!” he just laughed at your cute behavior and attacked you with a big hug

you two ended up accidentally falling asleep on that big, fluffy pillow and you both woke up to find yourselves in each other’s arms

malleus draconia

“(y/n).” he called out to you. “yes?” “i heard there’s going to be a meteor shower tonight.”

“ah! yeah...about that. i was thinking...if you would want to come see it with me?” you fiddled with your fingers. “me? i’m...invited?” “yes! i wouldn’t want to invite anyone else in the whole world.”

malleus felt delighted and was just looking forward to that night. he didn’t really matter what else happened during the day.

“but i don’t really know where we can watch it from. the other students are planning on watching it too...” “we can see it from the diasomnia observatory.” “WAIT, YOU HAVE THAT?!” you shrieked a little too loudly

“i mean....if you don’t mind.” “of course. it’s alright.”

you were shocked to find yourself in a neat and organized observatory. bookshelves surrounded the whole room and a big telescope was in the middle of it. “this is amazing...”

“you could always come here if you want.” “WHAT?! WAIT, REALLY?” you beamed as you followed malleus. “i know your love for space, (y/n).”

you mentally slapped yourself, was it always that obvious? am i just too loud about it? ugh damn it.

“you shouldn’t worry about it. it’s fascinating to learn all about it.” you were always there for malleus when he was in depth into talking about gargoyles and you treated him with the utmost respect. you also joined in the conversation and actually asked him a few things. he wanted to do the same for you.

“i was the one who invited you, yet here you are doing everything.” “i don’t mind...” if i can spend time with you, i’d do anything.

“malleus, look!” you pointed at a golden glow coming from the sky. it was starting.

you two stood in silence for a while, enjoying the view of the night sky and each other’s presence

“you know...i’ve seen this meteor once. when i was a child.” “really?” you scooted closer to him. “sadly, back then, i didn’t have anyone to enjoy it with. i didn’t have anyone who is as passionate talking about it as much as you. and now, i’m glad you’re by my side, (y/n).”

“and i’ll continue to be by your side! i promise, we’re going to see as many meteor shower as possible! we’ll go stargazing, go chase clouds, everything! and--ah sorry. am i rambling too much?”

malleus took your hand in his and placed a gentle kiss atop it. “hearing you talk about these things makes me happy, (y/n). and i’m glad you’re by my side. i promise we’ll do all these things together. i’d do anything with you, as long as we’re together.” “thank you.” you smiled back (trying your best not to lose your composure)

and you both spent the whole night in the balcony, hand in hand, with your head resting on him as you watched the stars in the night sky and as the sky turned from a dark blue to a bright blue

just like the way you both wanted it to be

and now i wanna go stargazing uuuugggghhhhh or watch kimi no na wa/violet evergarden again efjwoejfowe. FAIRY GALA EVENT TOMORROW!!!! the best of luck to everyone who’s scouting !!!

love, a♕

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qwanderer · 3 years

Text

Loki in the Hall of Mirrors

This story is complicated. Not, like, as a plot, not particularly, but philosophically and thematically. It's got that great play of hero against villain that I love about the Loki story in general and that makes it all so divisive and messy. And I love it even more than I did on first watch.

The first time I watched the desert landing scene, I was like, "Wait? What happened to Allspeak?" because the people who live there don't seem to understand him. But on the second watch, I realized it could be a lack of context, rather than a break in translation. These people probably have an even chance of knowing nothing about Norse myth. Like, what if an alien came up to you and said "I am Boogle of Bofgar, I carry a burden"? You would still have questions like "What the hell is a boogle and why are you carrying your shit here?" So the basic dynamic of Allspeak is probably still functioning, and Loki probably understood their questions, but he was still trying to figure out how to answer when he got distracted by the TVA people.

It could even be an innate psychic ability rather than a magical one, as he seems to understand everyone in the TVA, including the man who can't be fluent in all languages like the field agents because he has never heard of a fish and the seemingly nonverbal robot. (Which of course makes me want Loki talking with Dum-E and the other shop bots! But I digress.)

Okay. I want to start talking about the next-level manipulation shit the TVA are pulling on Loki here. Time, as they say, moves differently in the TVA, and one might even assume that they can avoid having to deal with more variants at once than they can handle. And yet we see them dealing with exactly two other troublemakers during Loki's onboarding.

The first, I'm going to call little echo man.

Little echo man is incredibly annoying to Loki, because he does and says everything Loki might find himself inclined to do and say if he wanted to be difficult. Little echo man does these things in little annoying undignified ways, making them look silly and petulant. Little echo man protests and questions and pushes back, in his business suit and his long dark hair and pale skin, and clearly thinks everyone should treat him as important even though every indication is that he is an annoyance and an afterthought.

Perhaps he's a plant, and perhaps he's just a variant of an annoying but predictable regular they see who they lined up at the same time on purpose. But he is on purpose. Everything he does screams directly at Loki, "Don't do this."

We'll get to the second convenient intersection later.

The most obvious layer of manipulation is simply the beraucracy. They put him up against a series of obstacles which he needs to deal with to get anywhere else, and nothing he does can get him past those obstacles except compliance. All of these obstacles have personality, but they are not personable. They treat Loki like a bag of trash they have been tasked with taking to the curb. Annoying, distasteful, but ultimately routine. His silver tongue isn't going to get him anywhere because these people simply don't care.

I think a lot of these he just goes along with to see where it gets him, since at this point he still believes he has his magic in reserve. But the fact that he steps through the robot fryer even though he thinks he might be a robot without knowing (as others have pointed out, he spent thousands of years as a frost giant without knowing it, and he's recently spent time in the control of the being who shaped Nebula) is a testament to how deep they've already got their hooks in him.

They treat the robot fryer like it's routine, but come the next obstacle, they kill little echo man like it's routine, too. Because he didn't comply.

Loki is slowly being ironed flat to thread into their compliance mill.

And then - I love this, because it reminds me of one of my favorites among the multiplicity of Lokis, GoS!Loki - they put this line in as punctuation between the impersonal, compliance, don't phase of their manipulation and everything that comes after it.

When he's set before the judge, someone actually paying some attention to him, this is his chance to use his silver tongue on someone who will listen. But, although the judge listens, she treats him the same as all the other obstacles have - like listening is a distasteful chore she would like to be done with.

So it seems like the perfect moment for a dramatic escape. Except his magic is gone.

"It's not your story," the judge says. "It never was."

That hammers in all the worst things Loki has ever believed about himself - that he stands in the shadows of others, that he will never have the central place he was raised to desire, that he is, and always will be, a villain to be vanquished rather than a person with choices and agency.

Enter Mobius.

Mobius is a big echo.

He draws all the attention in a room. He is everything that Loki wishes to be - he is powerful, informed, prepared, in control. Capable of charming the judge. And most importantly, he is actively interested in Loki.

At this point in Loki's journey - both in the show and in his life - that has to be irresistible.

So Mobius is in a perfect position to wrap Loki right around his pinky finger.

He listens to Loki without shutting him down, the way all the obstacles have. When Loki tells Mobius he's going to burn down the TVA, Mobius suggests a couple of places he might want to start. One concrete, small, mischievous. One an indication that he's open to Loki doing larger, more significant things here in the future.

He shows Loki his own past and future - but carefully edited, to paint a particular picture.

So many echoes, so many reflections - Loki is in a house of mirrors. Lost, disoriented. Distorted one way, then the other. Magnified and examined.

Loki snarks, and Mobius comments, "Makes you sound smart." Affirms Loki for that little mischievous bit of personality.

Mobius shows Loki some of the most terrible things he's done, and questions them. Pushes Loki away from them. Then changes direction before he can get too heavy-handed, to basically fangirl over the DB Cooper adventure. That's mischief. That's good. I like that.

Punishes him for a small infraction, just to remind him who is in control and that even looking threatening could be seen as a problem.

I think it was at about this point that I got hard reminded of the dynamics of the show White Collar. It's a buddy cop show on a basic level and sometimes the relationship can be very sweet, but sometimes Peter spends one too many times reminding Neal that he can send him back to prison any time he wants and the power dynamic shows its messed up edges.

Mobius is part of the machine, and the machine is doing terrible things to Loki, but I have at least a sliver of hope that the relationship could gain more balance - more genuine balance, not based on the faux freedom that Loki has gained by the end of the episode. There's something to be said for making changes to a system from within that system, but for that to be meaningful change, Mobius would have to change as a person.

Anyway, this current nastily powerful Mobius pushes Loki as hard as he can, and then is conveniently interrupted by the actions of another variant, leaving Loki alone with his remote.

It could easily have been on purpose. The only thing Loki learns by escaping that room is that the TVA is more powerful than any force in the universe, in his experience.

Let's talk about the other Loki variant for a minute. It took me until the second viewing to realize the symbolism of leaving a small child the only survivor in a place of worship, then giving her something to turn her blue.

Odin said he found Loki in a temple, in the aftermath of a battle.

It's actually frighteningly easy to imagine how a distraught Loki could get to a place where he feels the need to genuinely burn down the TVA, and kill every agent in it. Because the TVA put certain clips in his little future show, focusing on the death of his mother, the way his own actions affected it, and the futility and brutality of his own death at the hands of Thanos.

They don't show him the destruction of Asgard, his own role in helping save the evacuees, and the way Thanos decimated the population of that transport before it could even reach Earth. They don't show him the devastation of his home or his capacity to do good.

A Loki who knows that the power of the TVA exists and that he has the capacity to be Asgard's heroic savior would do anything to get that power and save his people.

But we haven't met that Loki yet. I'm sure we will, and it's going to be exhilarating.

This Loki is being taught the importance of control over little things, and so when he gets his collar off and onto that guard, he toys with her, just to see that he can. They have been toying with him and it's oh so satisfying to turn the tables. But it's still compliance in its own way, the petty little mischief that Mobius has been steering him towards.

Loki has been given just enough freedom, just enough choices, that it seems like his own choice to watch the rest of the slide show and come to the obvious conclusion - there's no "out" to go to. His life has gone on without him, and ended. And there's really no point in his trying to fix it. No putting things back the way they were.

So he admits to Mobius - the person who has listened hardest, probably, besides his mother - he admits that he is small and scared and lashing out. That he doesn't know what to do.

Of course, this is when Mobius introduces the task the TVA has for Loki - to take down his other self.

Oh, I can't wait for the next episode! I want to know where this is going.

(I've popped in some panels from Loki: Agent of Asgard because it's my favorite and the show is giving me feelings about it.)

#the loki show #the loki series #agent mobius #loki #loki meta #spoilers #loki spoilers #loki show spoilers #aoa #gos!loki #marvel

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chipper9906 · 3 years

Text

Third Times The Charm

WARNING: SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 15 (Episode 03: The Rupture, Episode 09: The Trap

Pairings: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 6,508

Status: One Shot - Complete

Chapter Preview:

“Well… not… not that part,” Dean stutters out, taken aback by the fiery, spitting rage that Cas so rarely displays towards him. “If you’d just let me-,”

“No,” Castiel interrupts him, slowly rising back up with his duffel in hand. “You think you’re trying, Dean. You really do. But when it comes down to it, you’re not entirely ready to apologize to me. Not yet.” Dean couldn’t even get a word out as Cas reached into his trench-coat pocket before firmly planting something into his hand – something familiarly rectangular and thin in shape. “And even if you are… I’m certainly not ready to forgive.”

* * *

Three times Dean Winchesters attempts to "apologize" to Castiel. Except... This is Dean Winchester. Apologies aren't exactly his strong point.

Link To Fic

Click Below To Keep Reading

He knew he’d messed it all up the second the words left his mouth. And yet, in that moment of overboiling, long over-due anger spilling out, he simply didn’t have enough reasoning left to realize it.

So, he said it.

“Yeah, why does that something always seem to be you?”

Cas had looked at him like he had physically hit him. He might as well have. But through the seething rage he felt, he just didn’t care that he had hurt Cas. A part of him felt good about it. Vindicated. Because if he was hurting, then Cas should, too.

And maybe that’s why… that’s why he can’t take it back. It’s why he can’t just apologize, tell Cas that he didn’t mean it, that it was a moment where he wasn’t thinking right. And that right there was the problem. He had meant it. He had been thinking back to all those times, all those fuck ups that have happened in their lives, and there was no doubt that Cas was involved in a lot of them. Maybe it had been something clung to the back of his mind, building, and building until he was pushed over the edge.

But it didn’t matter. He had said it, and he couldn’t take it back. He couldn’t remove the pain he had inflicted on Cas.

And he still wasn’t sure if he wanted to.

But that was beside the point. They didn’t have time for this. They didn’t have time for petty silent treatments, and the boatload of therapy they probably needed. Mom was dead, Jack was dead, Rowena was dead, they had just barely averted yet another goddamn Apocalypse whilst simultaneously being thrown into another; this one with God himself out on a personal vendetta against them, and the entire friggen Universe, and goddammit, they didn’t have the time for Cas to go off sulking on his own!

So now that’s why he was sat here on the edge of the map table, phone in hand, staring glumly down at Cas’s name as it glowed back at him from the screen, thumb hovering just over his name. He didn’t have much faith that the call would even go through, considering the past twenty or so times he’s tried so far were sent straight to Cas’s voicemail. And not in a way that suggested his phone was off, or even that he was letting it ring out and not answering it. Dean knew that the few brief rings he heard before being cut off by Cas’s voicemail could only mean that the bastard saw Dean was calling and was rejecting the damn call.

Which is why, as he waited to be greeted by the same annoying voicemail message he’s listened to way too many times now, he’s caught by surprise when he’s instead greeted by the click of the call connecting, and the loud silence of Cas on the other end, not speaking.

“Cas? You there?”

Nothing but silence greets him. For a moment, the annoying part of him that still cares starts envisioning the worst scenarios. What if it wasn’t Cas? What if someone or something had killed him, and the killer wanted to know who the hell was stubborn enough to call someone twelve times in the span of around four minutes.

But no, it’s Cas that answers on the other end of the line with a very curt and unfriendly sounding, “What?”

Dean just about holds his tongue – pretty much has to bite down on it to stop himself from saying something he shouldn’t – and takes a deep, not at all calming breath. “Any reason you’ve been ignoring both mine and Sammy’s calls?”

“I think the answer to that question is fairly obvious,” Cas’s answer is scathing, dripping with levels of sarcasm that Dean didn’t think angels could even reach.

“Alright, fine. But couldn’t you at least answer Sammy’s calls? Or even just his messages?”

“No.”

Another deep breath, Winchester.

“And why’s that?” Dean gets out through gritted teeth, hearing his phone crack and groan in protest under his vice-like grip.

“Because I don’t want to.”

Turns out, that’s all he needed to be pushed over the edge again.

“Yeah? Well, Cas, funnily enough, you don’t always get what you want. Woulda’ thought you of all people would have learned that by now, with as much time you spend with us. And you know what? Now isn’t one of those times where you get what you want. Hell, what neither of us want. But we both know that the crap going down right now is bigger than what you, or me, or Sammy, or anyone wants. So how about we both put aside our hissy fits for the time being, get over our own damn egos, and you get your feathery ass back here and help us figure out how the hell we’re supposed to kill God?”

His voice has raised perhaps a little bit too much near the end there, so much that he felt like it was ringing in his ears for a while after he had stopped talking; perhaps even enough to drown out whatever it was that Cas decided to respond with. Except, Cas didn’t respond. Not for a while, anyway. Nothing but silence – in the form of crackling white noise – emitted from Dean’s speaker, stretching on long enough that he had to take his phone away from his ear and check the screen to see if the phone was still connected.

And then Cas laughed.

He’s pretty sure he can count on one hand the number of times he’s heard Cas laugh, and this one… was not a good one. There was some amusement in it, but mostly it just sounded tired. And… a little bit bordering on insane.

“Something funny?” Dean damn near growled down the phone.

Cas’s laughter faded away at that. “No. No, I suppose there isn’t.”

A single beep emitted from the speaker. Gone was the white noise. Gone was Cas’s voice.

Cas had hung up on him.

Dean takes another deep breath, one just as unsuccessful as the last few. He holds the phone limply in his closed fist, staring blankly out into the bunker before bringing his fist down hard on the table, barely resisting the urge to launch his “too expensive to keep breaking through rage or hunts” across the room.

“You stubborn son of a bitch,” Dean grits out, balancing his phone in his lap as he massages his now sore hand. “Just gotta make this complicated, don’t you…”

The idea pops into his head right then and there, jumping down from the table and settling into an actual seat. He pulls his laptop towards him, flipping open the top and getting to work. “Fine, Cas. You don’t wanna come back home? Then I’ll come to you…”

* * *

There were a lot of things Dean thought Cas might be doing in some small town out in the middle of nowhere.

Well, not a lot of things. Actually… Dean had no idea. The last time Cas went off on his own – admittedly, not of his fault – he had gone and tried to be a proper citizen of America with his own degrading, low-paying, soul-sucking retail job. He supposed that was a possibility, but, he doubted it. Most of the time, Cas is… well, with him, Dean supposed. Helping him and Sam with whatever big ugly had decided to rear its head for the year. Cas didn’t really get much free time, didn’t have much time for hobbies (neither did he unless you counted drinking and porn watching, but whatever), so of all the things he expected for Cas to be doing…

Fishing certainly wasn’t one of them.

Cas had managed to find himself a nice little dock to fish off as well. A cozy, hidden spot within the reeds, far out enough from civilization that Dean actually had to hike out here to find him. Admittedly, he was a little pissed to have to leave Baby behind and hike for four friggen hours in the heat whilst swiping away blood-sucking mosquitos, but it wasn’t like he had much of a choice.

There was a single fishing rod cast out into the water, its little neon orange bobber oddly still despite drifting amidst the gentle waves created by the evening’s wind as it blew across the surface of the water. Strangely, there was an honest to God boom-box sat next to Cas, which would have undoubtedly scared away any fish in the area if it was playing music. Which… it wasn’t. Even from the other end of the dock, Dean could see the tape holder was open and empty.

Dean stands there long enough to see the little bobber start bobbing in the water, flicking left and right as fish nibble on its bait. It’s not long after that the lure disappears completely, sinking below the surface of the water and into its murky depths as a fish takes the bait. But… Cas doesn’t react. In fact, he hadn’t even been looking at the lure. He must have been holding something in his hands - what exactly that is, Dean can’t see from here – as he can tell from Cas’s hunched posture that this mysterious object must be whatever had won Cas’s attention over his bait being taken.

“You know, you’re actually supposed to catch the fish when fishing. I get that it’s supposed to be relaxing, but… you could at least try to catch something when it’s on the end of your hook.”

Cas doesn’t jump or startle at his voice, much to Dean’s secret displeasure. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if Cas somehow sensed his presence. Maybe he could smell his scent or something. Hear his heartbeat. Feel his soul. Something like that.

What he does do is sigh. Loudly. Loud enough for Dean to hear from all the way over here, which kinda hurts if he’s being honest. That being said, he does put away whatever he was holding into his coat’s pocket and picks up the rod at Dean’s words and hooks the fish, reeling it in like he’s done it a hundred times before.

“I thought I’d give it a try. Perhaps make some sense of my thoughts,” Cas says without looking back at him, keeping his gaze fixated on the water ahead. “Try and see why so many are invested in this past time. I suppose maybe it’d be different if I was human, but… I just don’t get quite the same satisfaction.” It seems that, in a blink of an eye, Cas has the fish reeled in and dangling in the air in front of him. He gets the hook out of its mouth just as quick, looking down to the decent-sized carp he held in his hands. “What is it about fishing that makes it so worthwhile to humans? Is it the struggle of trying to reel it in? The sense of satisfaction you get out of pulling this creature from its habitat? Some feeling of power, a superiority, that you’ve outsmarted and outmuscled a lesser being than yourself?”

“Uh… I’m not much one for philosophical debates, Cas,” Dean looks to Cas wide-eyed, taking a few cautious steps onto the dock and towards him. “I just find it relaxing, I suppose. Bobby used to take me and Sammy out a few times when dad was off on hunts. We wouldn’t talk about dad, or where he’d be taking us once he got back - - if he got back. It was nice to just sit out in the sun, Bobby and Sam next to me and… get to feel some sense of peace that I haven’t felt since I was four.”

Castiel only hums at that, gently lowering the fish back down into the water and letting it swim away. “How did you find me?”

Dean steps even closer. “Sammy put a tracker on your phone a long time ago, bud. Can never be too careful.”

“Sam did?” Cas said, sounding genuinely surprised. The first bit of emotion Dean had heard slip into his voice.

“Yeah. I actually argued with him over it, believe it or not,” Dean shoves his hands into his jacket pockets, keeping a small amount of space between him and Cas. “Guess it turned out useful…”

Cas was still refusing to look at him, which was all kinds of frustrating. “When did…”

“Not long after you came back from… y’know… the Empty,” Dean gets out. “But, uh… he brought it up after you knocked us out with your mojo and ran off with Kelly against our wishes.”

Cas tenses up at that, carelessly tossing his fishing rod to the floor next to him and finally, finally, standing up from the edge of the dock and turning to face Dean. “And if I’d have gone with your wishes, there would have been every chance that Jack would have ended up dead – perhaps before he was even born!”

“Yeah? Well, he ended up dead anyway, didn’t he?” Dean says it like the words don’t hurt him as much as it does Cas. He says it like he doesn’t see the way Cas’s face fall, the little frustration he held shifts into what can only be described as both shock and grief. And then, to make it worse – and because he just can’t his mouth shout – he makes it a hundred times worse. “Maybe we’d be better off if we had stopped him from being born. At least then mom would still be alive.”

There wasn’t any grief left on Cas’s face. No sadness, no anger. It was nothing but disgust that he held for Dean and his words, and Dean knew he deserved such a look from Cas, but it wasn’t exactly like the rational part of his brain that knows this is in control right now.

“What do you want, Dean?” Castiel asks him, sounding too small and tired for a mighty angel of the Lord. “Did you track me all this way, come all the way out here to… what? To hurt me more?”

“No!” Dean yells, which totally defeats the point of what he’s trying to go with here. “No, that’s not why…” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and scrunching his eyes shut. “I… I came to bring you home.”

Castiel raises a single eyebrow up at him. “To… bring me home?”

“Yeah. You know, back to the bunker. Look Cas, I’m not stupid enough to pretend that I… that we don’t still need you.”

“That’s surprising to hear,” Castiel bites back. “Considering you think I’m the ‘thing’ that goes wrong in every mess we’ve been through.”

“That’s not-,” Dean tries, but Cas has already turned his back to him; hurriedly picking his fishing rod back up and began disassembling it. “I’m trying, okay?”

“Trying to do what?” Castiel grumbles under his breath, pulling apart the rod pieces a little harsher than he intended.

“What the hell do you think?!” Dean throws his hands in the air, letting his irritation boil over. “I’m trying to make things right, I guess. Trying to… to apologize.”

Castiel actually pauses in trying to stuff the rod back into its duffel, his head snapping up to look at Dean. “Apologize…? In what part of you admitting your wish for Jack to have been terminated before birth should I take as an apology?”

“Well… not… not that part,” Dean stutters out, taken aback by the fiery, spitting rage that Cas so rarely displays towards him. “If you’d just let me-,”

There was nothing Dean could do. Nothing but stand there in astonishment as Cas simply walked right by him, leaving him there standing at the end of the dock staring down at the object Cas has pressed into his hand. And honestly, this in itself was more painful than anything Cas could have ever said in return.

In his hand was a clearly well used, well-loved mixtape, his own writing staring back at him in crudely drawn sharpie on the faded white label:

‘Deans top 13 Zepp TRA XX’

“Thought I told you you’re supposed to keep gifts,” Dean just about manages to get out, braving a look up at Cas’s retreating form.

Castiel’s steps halt for just a moment. Just long enough to say one more thing before continuing on his way. “You did. But, it is to my knowledge that you only keep a gift so long as it is wanted, is it not?”

Never mind. He was wrong.

That hurt a lot more.

* * *

He was a dick.

He knew that. He got that now. But now, it seemed, was too late.

He can’t say he wasn’t angry, because he was. What he can say was that he held onto that anger for too long. That he didn’t stop for a moment to look at things the way Cas probably did. Instead, he only saw things the way his anger wanted to, to keep him steeped in that burning rage, letting himself lash out at Cas because it was easy. Because he’d put the blame on Cas so many times before, so why not do it again?

And now, Cas might be…

No. No, he refuses to believe it. Cas is fine. He’s made it out of a few bad scraps before, he’s sure Cas will find a way to take out those dick-head leviathans and… and Eve… the mother of all monsters… right?

“CAS!” His yell echoes between the trees that surround him, seemingly amplified by the low fog that swirls around him. An endlessly hopeful part of him expects to see that trench-coat-wearing idiot stumbling towards him in the distance, maybe a little bloodied and battle-worn but otherwise whole. But there’s nothing. Nothing but the odd stillness of Purgatory when creatures aren’t busy ripping each other apart.

How long had it been now? It had felt like he has been out here, wandering aimlessly for any sign of Cas for hours. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone, and that awful squeeze of fear clenches around his heart at the timer ticking down, making it hard to breathe.

29 minutes. That was all he had. 29 minutes to find Cas in the whole of Purgatory and get them back to the portal in time. It took him damn near an entire year to find Cas the last time. 29 minutes just wasn’t enough, and it wasn’t fair. He couldn’t… He couldn’t tell Cas what’s been tearing him up inside, can’t tell him what Cas shouldn’t have to hear from him to know, and now he never will and-

“No, no no…” The words spill out of his mouth without his permission, sounding as close to a whimper of pain that actual words possibly could.

He didn’t want to do it like this. Hell, he didn’t even know if Cas even had enough grace left to hear him. But he had to try. It worked last time, didn’t it? Every damn night…

“Cas? Cas I hope you can hear me… that wherever you are, it’s not too late,” It was harder than he expected, saying this out loud. Almost like he was accepting that he was never going to speak to Cas again. Never get to say these words face to face. “I should’ve stopped you. You’re my best friend, but I just let you go. ‘Cause it was easier than admitting I was wrong.”

The incessant burning in his eyes gets too much, the heavy weight in his nose forcing a shaky sniffle out of him. He reaches out a hand to the tree next to him, barely enough time to process the scratchy roughness of the bark before his wobbly knees are giving out, forcing him down to a crouch, leaning his weight against the tree.

“I… Ohh…” He nearly says it, but the words get caught in the back of his throat. ‘Not yet’ a voice seems to whisper in his head. It was at least better than the voice that would always whisper ‘Never’ whenever he let himself think those words. “I don’t know why I get so angry. I just know – I know that – I-it’s always been there. And when things go bad, it just – it comes out. And I can’t – I can’t stop it. No matter how-,” His voice catches once more. He was well past the point of holding the tears back. “-How bad I want to, I just can’t stop it.”

This was it. He couldn’t hold back now. Not when this might be his last chance. Even if… Even if Cas was no longer alive to hear this message. “And – And I – I forgive you. Of course I forgive you. And – God, Cas. I love you. You hear me? I love you. And I – I’m sorry it took me so long. I’m sorry it took me till now, till it might be too damn late to say it. Cas, I’m – I’m so sorry. I hope you can hear me… Please, hear me…”

He can almost hear the ‘whomp’ of wings he hasn’t heard in years. Could almost envision the sight of Cas stood behind him, head tilted to the side, looking to him in genuine angel curiosity as he answers Dean’s prayers. But when he looks around, the forests of Purgatory look just as empty through his tear-filled vision as they did moments before. “Okay…” Dean forces himself up, wiping a hand down his face to wipe away any evidence of what had just happened. Reset himself back to Dean Winchester. Hunter. Son of John Winchester.

Get the job done. Get back home.

His mind seems to switch off after that. He’s sure he looked every part the stereotypical zombies in the movies and tv shows and comics as he shuffles forward in the direction of the portal, face blank and devoid of life, shotgun heavy in hand and only the barest of survival instincts keeping an eye out for any movement within the trees.

He wasn’t far now. Just up ahead was his way out of here. He would step through, and be home. Without the flower. And… and without Cas. Mom. Jack. Rowena. Now Cas? What was the point? Would the world expect him to keep fighting if he lost Sammy too? And… God, what if Cas wasn’t dead? What if he walks through that portal, letting it close behind him, and leaves Cas here to be trapped for eternity?

Maybe he still had time. Maybe he could-

No. He didn’t. The timer on his phone displaying the numbers ’00:02:56’ proved as much. There wasn’t time. Cas was-

“Dean?”

Both hands are wrapped around his shotgun and pointing it towards the direction of the voice before his mind has fully caught up. His finger slides away from the trigger as his mouth falls open, lowering the end of the shotgun down at the sight of Cas, glorious Cas, looking a little worse for wear sat at the base of a tree. He looked every bit as dirty, bloodied, and miserable as anyone would after nearly twenty-four hours in Purgatory, but it didn’t matter, as it was the best sight Dean had ever seen.

Cas looks equally as shocked to see him, grimacing to himself as he pushes himself up to stand. “You made it?”

Dean can’t help but laugh. Not really the time for laughing, but it was mostly the delirium and pure, sweet relief bursting out of him. “I made it?”

Cas stumbles towards him, a bit of a limp in his gait, and Dean quickly makes up the short distance between them, throwing his arms around Cas and pulling the angel towards him. Cas feels real and solid pressed against his chest, and Dean thumps his hands against Cas’s back almost to prove to himself that the whole of Cas is here and intact. He almost wasn’t. He almost lost one of the only people left in this world he can say that he loves.

Which... which he’s said now.

“You okay?” Dean asks as soon as he feels Cas begin to push away from him, letting his eyes scan across Cas’s form to check for any obvious wounds or spilling of grace.

“I’m fine,” Castiel insists, probably a lie if Dean knows him. But, other than the sluggishly bleeding scrape on Cas’s head, he does look fine.

“What happened?”

“They were after me, not you,” Castiel gets out through panting, pained-sounding breaths. Yeah, sure. Fine. “I figured it would be safest to give myself up.”

And there it is again. Just another goddamn slap to the face. Even after everything that’s happened, after all the awful crap he’s said to Cas, the way he’s treated him… Cas was so willing to just put himself in the firing line for him.

‘These are not just monsters, Dean. They’re Leviathan. I have a price on my head, and I’ve been trying to stay one step ahead of them, to – to keep them away from you.’

“They take you to Eve?”

“Yeah. We were en route. I waited until I… saw this,” Cas reached into his trench-coat pocket, pulling out a sad-looking excuse for a flower that looked about as beat up as the person holding it. “It… got a little smushed.”

Dean could almost cry. Again. Here Cas was, somehow having escaped from a bunch of freak leviathans before being handed over to what would likely be horrendous torture and a death sentence from the mother of all monsters, manages to find the stupid fucking flower they came all the way out here for, get all the way back to the portal where he sits and waits for him… and he looks embarrassed that the flower got a little ‘smushed?’

That’s beside the fact that he probably crushed it by hugging Cas.

“Once I had the blossom, I fought; caught them off guard,” Cas continued. “They fought back. I managed to get away.”

Dean smiles. For what feels like the first time in quite a while, he smiles. “You did it. You did it, Cas.”

And then, by some miracle by God – wait no, not him, by something or someone… Cas gives him a tentative smile back. “Well, they’re still after me. We should hurry,” Cas gestures with a small shake of his head towards the portal, already starting to move away.

“Okay, Cas I need to say something-,”

“You don’t have to say it,” Castiel interrupts, that tentative smile back on his face. “I heard your prayer.”

But that wasn’t enough. Sure, it was of some comfort knowing that the prayer had at least reached Cas, but… but something didn’t sit right with him about that. Besides the fact that what he said is something that really should be said face to face (and maybe sending a message like that over the prayer is the equivalent of sending it over text message or… or voicemail?), Cas’s reaction was just… not what he was expecting. Not that Cas was ever entirely predictable in his reactions, and perhaps basing what Cas’s reaction would be on what his reaction would be if Cas ever confessed to him like that wasn’t the best of ideas, but… still, it was odd. Dean was expecting at least something, some sort of reaction to his words other than an acknowledgment that it had been heard.

Cas was right, though. They really needed to hurry; what with a bunch of leviathans after them and probably around 30 seconds left before the portal closes behind them.

They race towards the portal, his hand on Cas’s back helping to push him forward as he struggles with that new limp of his. Dean can hear his pulse racing in his ears as they step closer and closer to the portal, watching its light flicker and shimmer as it struggles to stay open. He wouldn’t be surprised if God had somehow caught wind of their plans, and was waiting until the very last second when they were about to step through, to close the portal a few seconds earlier and laugh in their faces as the portal disappears from sight.

But that’s not what happens. They step through the portal, one after the other, neither being left behind. There’s a split second of nothing but blinding white as the portal flares, losing sight of Cas for just a moment, and then he’s there again; stood just in front of him in the bunker, the tension and stress of Purgatory already draining away from his hunched posture.

The portal gives one last pathetic flicker, and then it’s closing down on itself. The bunker is left in silence, the crackle of the portal’s energy gone, and they’re both left standing facing each other in this awkward, “what happens now” kind of stillness.

“Um… I suppose I should-,” Cas begins, taking the flower out from his pocket and motioning towards the bunker hallway.

“Cas, wait,” Dean pleads, taking an unsure step towards Cas, who freezes in place with flower still in hand. “I… I really need to talk to you, man.”

Castiel’s forehead creases in confusion, hesitantly reaching back into his pocket to put the flower back. “I already told you, Dean. I heard your prayer-,”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Dean cuts him off with a wave of his hand. His tongue darts out to wet his upper lip, a nervous gesture he could never quite hide. “I just… I feel like you should hear it directly from me, if that makes sense?”

“Not really.”

Dean huffs. “Look Cas, it’s… I meant it, okay? Even if I was panicking over the thought of you being stuck in purgatory again and… it wasn’t just a “I might as well say it because you might be dead” kind of thing, okay?”

“I know,” Castiel says, still looking just as confused as he did moments ago. “I know you’re sorry, Dean. It’s okay. I believe you.”

And then Cas turns to walk away again, and Dean can’t help but get the feeling that Cas isn’t quite getting what he’s trying to say here. So, he darts out a hand and grasps Cas’s arm, bringing the angel to a standstill. Cas looks down at Dean’s hand around his arm in genuine surprise, almost as if Dean had done something incredible offensive, and then brings his gaze up to meet Dean’s desperate one. “Dean? Are you okay?”

Dean couldn’t help it. He laughs, though it sounds about as humorless as he was feeling right now. “No, Cas. I’m not. But… are you… did you hear my entire prayer?”

Castiel frowns at him again, blue eyes scanning across the sudden, unexpected timidness look on Dean’s face. “Yes. I heard all of it.”

Dean returns the inquisitive gaze, searching for any kind of reaction, a give of some sort that Cas was thinking back to those words he had prayed to him. But there’s nothing. Nothing but the usual patient look that Castiel always held. “Listen man, I’m always one for avoiding big girly talks as much as the next guy, but… are you really not going to say anything about it?”

“About what?”

Damn it. He’s really gonna make him say it again, huh?

“You know… the bit about how I uh… the thing I said, after I said I was sorry?”

“Oh!” Castiel says, his tone bright in realization. “When you said you love me?”

And wow, what a way for Cas to say it. Like it was just… a matter of fact. Like he was simply stating what the fucking weather was like.

Dean must be staring at Cas with a damn right bewildered face right now, as the look of concern Castiel had worn for pretty much this entire conversation began to increase tenfold. “What is it?”

“Seriously?” Dean splutters out, throwing his hands up in the air. “You’re telling me I had to discover this mind-altering revelation for myself, keep it pushed down, come to terms with it and finally get the balls to admit it to you, and your reaction is absolutely nothing?”

“But… I already knew you loved me?”

It’s enough to bring Dean’s mind to a standstill. Had he… he had somehow told Cas he loved him and didn’t remember it? Oh God, that damn memory spell… had he somehow called Cas and told him something before his memory completely went kaput? No, no, it couldn’t have been that… the counter spell regained all his memories of that shitty night, he’s pretty sure… Could Cas sense it, somehow? What if it was in his soul? Some kind of change to his soul that Cas picked up on?

“You… you knew?”

“Yes… You’ve reiterated to me many times that I’m like a brother to you, and, given your connection to Sam, I assumed that meant that kind of love extended to me as well? I don’t mean to offend you Dean, the fact that you put me in the same regard as Sam is an honor of itself-,”

Oh.

Oh, Cas. Oh, Cas, Cas, Cas. He had listened to what he had said, but he hadn’t really heard him. Strangely, it kind of hurt to think that, upon hearing his confession, Cas had just sort of automatically assumed that he had meant he loved him like a brother. Perhaps it hurt because, he wasn’t sure if Cas assumed that because of the way he’s always treated him, or because Cas could just never see Dean in any other way.

“Not what I meant, Cas,” Dean says quietly, though the words sounded loud in the quiet of the room. “Oh, Cas. You damn fool… I didn’t mean as a brother.”

Cas almost looks scared, and it’s about the equivalent of a rusty knife being twisted in his gut. Cas looked scared to be hopeful. Like he was scared to think of what his words meant. Dean reaches out a hand once more, gently grabbing hold of the sleeve of Cas’s trench coat. Cas doesn’t flinch or move his arm away, so Dean lets his hand slowly slip down, lets his fingers settle in the gap between Cas’s. Cas’s breath hitches at the feeling of warm skin against his hand, his eyes darting to their entwined hands then back up to Dean. His mouth parts, a question on his lips, which Dean answers with his own.

It’s… not what he was expecting. There’s no moment of inner panic, no feeling of wrongness that has him ripping away from Cas and furiously wiping at his lips. But it’s no “fireworks” moment, either. Cas’s lips are, confusingly, chapped and dry from the cold winds of Purgatory, and yet have a tender softness to them that has him leaning closer for more. He doesn’t taste like… well, that one Dean wasn’t sure about. He had kinda been expecting some kind of… of… soapy cleanliness taste of pure, heavenly Grace. But no, Cas tastes like dirt and sweat with a little metallic twang from what was likely a busted-up lip. It’s nothing like any girl he’s ever kissed has tasted like, and strangest of all, he doesn’t give him a damn. He’s not panicking about kissing Cas because “It’s Cas!”, he’s sinking into it, melting into the touch of Cas’s hand on his back, because It’s Cas.

But the moment can’t last forever. Cas goes tense under his hands, a sudden fear taking hold, and then he’s holding Dean at arm’s length. His eyes are wide and fixated on Dean’s face, chest rising and falling in tandem with his harsh breaths, despite the fact Dean’s fairly sure Cas doesn’t even have to breathe.

“Did you mean it?” Castiel asks, his fingers tightening their grip around Dean’s shoulders. “You… you love me like…?”

“Yeah, Cas,” Dean says with a blissed-out smile. “Not like a brother. I don’t just love you. I’m in love with you. And listen, I know I kinda sprung this up on you at a bad time, and… I know I’ve acted like a real jerk to you lately, so you have every right to just pretend like this never happened and-,”

“Don’t be an idiot, Dean Winchester,” Castiel cut him off, but there’s no malice to his voice as he does it. In fact, the small pull of a smile at the corner of his mouth widens to a gummy smile that Dean knows means this is a really happy Cas, and considering how rare he sees that from Cas, it brings him a sense of satisfaction that he’s the reason Cas is smiling like that.

“Sorry, Cas. Being an idiot is just who I am. Especially considering I was apparently stupid enough to go and fall in love.”

And then it’s Cas’s turn to make Dean freeze up in disbelief and stare at Cas wide-eyed, because he chuckles warmly at Dean’s statement and tells him, “I suppose that makes me stupid too, then.”

“Oh…” Is all Dean can squeak out, probably the un-manliest he’s ever sounded, but considering the beaming smile Cas sends his way, he guesses Cas didn’t seem to mind. “You, uh… you don’t have to say it if you don’t-,”

“I love you,” Castiel confessed, soft and sweet, yet it punches into Dean hard. “But I thought you already knew that.”

“Maybe you should stop assuming things, Cas.”

“And maybe you should stop waiting until you think I’m dead to say how you feel.”

“Touché,” Dean settles, grabbing hold of Cas’s hand once more and tugging him towards the door. “Oh, and-,” He stops mid-stride, Cas nearly colliding into him. Dean forces down a grin at Cas’s curious head tilt as he searches in his jacket pocket, pulling out the mixtape he’s kept there ever since Cas gave it back to him and planting it perhaps a little too harshly against Cas’s chest. “Don’t you ever try and give this back to me again.”

Cas places his free hand atop Dean’s on his chest, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Cas grabs hold of the mixtape before it can drop to the ground as Dean removes his hand, fingers curled protectively around the tape as he looks down at it with a fond smile.

“I suppose I should have known,” Castiel murmurs quietly, eyes softening with realization as he stares down at the tape. “You already tried to give your love to me. It was just in a language I had yet to truly understand.”

#Destiel #destiel fanfiction #Destiel fanfic #oneshot #castiel/dean winchester #castiel/dean #angst #angst with a happy ending

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orsuliya · 3 years

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Can we talk about how these princes , with so much wealth & resources how could they basically have no martial art skill ?

Zitan , he can’t even do a basic fighting (running ard and hiding behind the tree) while assassins tried to kill him, not a good look for prince. Potato, a sitting duck with arrow in his chest 😹 and Zilu only able to swing sword around aimlessly

The problem is not that Zitan cannot fight off those assassins. There are four of them and he’s more than a little drunk, judging from his and Awu’s general behaviour at the festival. The problem is that he was not drunk when he decided to slip out of the palace and steal Awu away from the safety of her home. And yet this adult man takes absolutely no precautions. None. No secret bodyguards following them at a distance, not a one. Okay, this is somewhat understandable, although it further proves that Zitan is a bloody nobody, a prince with no faithful retainers of his own, whom he could trust not to blab to his father or mother. But seriously, he has NO WEAPON. Not even a measly dagger!

What. The. Hell. Was. He. Thinking. Anything can happen at night in a crowd. I am not even talking about possible assassination attempts, but about common cutpurses and, if one is particularly unlucky, common cutthroats. Or, if those are too hard to imagine, then about bog-standard drunkards, who might become somewhat too bold towards a lady of Awu’s beauty and sharp tongue. If Zitan was alone, then fine, I could excuse this criminal forgetfulness. He’s young, he may be feeling immortal or think that nobody will dare to attack one such as him (despite the incognito). But he’s not alone. He has Awu with him and as the instigator of this whole adventure should take responsibility shoud try to ensure her safety... even if she was not his beloved Princess and possible future wife. A hidden weapon would do the trick; or better yet, he should wear a sword in plain view, regardless of his actual skill. Probably won’t help against assassins, but you know who it might discourage rather effectively? Anybody who would gladly try to take advantage of a defenceless highborn youth and his beautiful companion, that’s who.

Training or no training - and Zitan obviously had some - nothing excuses this level of utter irresponsibility. Either Zitan is a total moron or he thinks that the capital is a land of love, peace and rainbows, which makes me wonder about his eyesight and hearing. As far as we know, Zitan has been raised in the very centre of the court and not pushed into some isolated corner, so what gives?

At least he tries to get Awu out of the way, even as becomes blatantly obvious that she’s not the main target. Bonus points for using his surroundings to hinder the attackers, I guess. But seriously, weapons are useful. And not so heavy that he could not hide one on his princely person.

Oh. We were to talk about the princes’ training or lack thereof, not about Zitan’s idiocy. Fine. It’s obvious they all got some form of training; Zitan can, ummm, shoot a bow without damaging himself, Potato is a surprisingly good archer as seen during the Hunt of Doom and Zilu can... handle a sword in a reasonable manner? Although I have no idea Zilu goes for a rapier-style thurst when Awu gets on his last nerve. That... doesn’t really make sense as a go-to move taking into account the type of weapon in use, Zilu’s state of mind and their respective positions. Oooh! I get it! Parrying a swing would require Zitan to actually do something other than just standing there like a sacrificial lamb! Right.

Anyway. As far as I can tell, all the princes got some theoretical lessons, a bit of practical training with weapons and that was... that? Perhaps not one of them had shown any great aptitude and therein lies the answer, but it doesn’t seem all that probable. For one, I am sure that Zilu strived to excel at all of his lessons. Potato - and isn’t this curious - seems really happy about doing outdoors stuff, even in the middle of an actual conspiracy with a non-zero chance of getting shish-kabobed by Xiao Qi. By the way, I don’t blame him for getting shot; it was unexpected, so. Zitan, well, Zitan was probably a lost cause from the very beginning.

The question is this: there are three princes, the imperial hold on Cheng’s army is slipping rapidly due to a myriad of factors, so why not take one of those princes and make him into a puppet general, regardless of actual competence? The final decision in this largely domestic matter lies with the Emperor, no matter how much the Xies and the Wangs may push and pull at court and through their respective imperial consorts. The obvious answer is that Daddy Emperor had learned his lesson during his own campaign for the throne. Not because he himself was an able commander, as I am sure he was not, but rather because of Jianning. Our Prince J might have been thrown into the army young and that’s where he got the resources and the audacity to stage his own attempt on the throne. Was Daddy Emperor fearful that a military-trained prince might stage a coup against himself? Maybe, maybe not. What is more probable is that the Emperor wanted to avoid a civil war after his death, which means that General Zilu was never an option. Creating a third viable candidate by giving the ‘lesser’ prince a ready-made army? No way. Wangs are The Worst and having a warrior-prince would mean that they could never be budged from their position of power. Sorry, Potato, no army for you. Now, logically reasoning, if Zitan was Daddy Emperor’s favourite and the prince he originally wanted as his heir, then Zitan should be given all possible help, right? So why wasn’t he taught any actual skills, whether in governance or in military matters?

The thing is... they might have tried. In episode 61, when Zitan asks his faithful pair of retainers if he would be able to best Xiao Qi, their first answer is not that he’s the Emperor so it’s a given. Well, that too, but the first, immediate response? You studied the art of war. Which, okay, might be a reasonable guess when it comes to any prince, but those retainers are rather young and only recently-promoted. Before their soujourn at the Imperial Mausoleum they probably served somewhere within the wider imperial household, but not close enough to any great personage to be knowledgeable about what the princes might or might not have studied. Also, that answer, should Zitan’s lessons be limited to his early childhood, would make them look like idiots or bootlickers of the worst sort. But let’s say that Zitan actually studied the art of war and did so longer than his brothers. Or, alternatively, with more famous masters. That would naturally be a subject of some talk, if only within the imperial household itself. If so, then the female retainer, who seems rather astute in general, gave the best answer she could give.

Let’s wrap it all up. What I think might have happened is that the two elder princes got blocked from pursuing any kind of military career by their father for purely political reasons. All princes got some basic training with weapons, although not enough to enable them to credibly defend themselves. Which, okay, not like they would ever need to do, because what are Imperial Mooks for. Potato might have pursued additional training in archery; he seems a rather avid hunter, which would read like a harmless enough pasttime even to a paranoid ruler. Zitan got additional lessons in the art of war, more in theory than practice. The first part didn’t stick, the second part he slipped out of, probably thanks to his soft-hearted mother. Concubine Xie really spoiled him, that’s pretty obvious going by the way they both behave about the matter of Zitan’s potential marriage. Besides, it’s not like a blue-blooded general actually needs to wave a sword himself. That would be positively plebeian. Strategy, theory, that’s what matters - that seems to be a prevalent view in the capital. Remember one Wei Kang...?

#ask and answer #the rebel princess #Zitan oh so pretty and oh so useless #not even a dagger what the hell #and this is why I headcanon that all Awu's wards get some actual self-defense training

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my-happy-little-bean · 4 years

Text

Constellation Observations

pairing: logince (woah bean isn’t writing logicality what’s this–) warnings: mild swearing, insecurity, talks of burn out, allusions to a depressive episode words: 3456

summary: Logan begins to write a series of observations to learn more about Roman; and as he does, he grows to understand his universe (and perhaps falls in love with it too).

a/n - somehow, reading stuff by @sign-from-god-complex inspired me to go out of my comfort zone and write some logince fluff. it’s not the most revolutionary logince content out there, but it out here :p plus i wrote this whilst lying down in my backyard again so consider this my way of giving you a piece of my good day :”) also i am still trying to figure out the next golden slumbers chapter so i needed to give my brain a break :pp

enjoy!

[read on ao3~]

---

Observation #1: Roman always picks at the grass in the Imagination, even if he is the one who grows it. Reasons for the needless destruction of his own creation remain unclear at the moment.

Perhaps it was because he was exhausted beyond belief, but Logan just couldn’t stop staring at Roman.

Logan had his notebook in his lap like he always did; though this time, he was sitting on the grass of the Imagination, not in his desk chair. It was late at night as well, maybe 2:30 AM. However, the stars in the sky flickered in a way that made Logan believe in the possibility of a timeless day.

It did not surprise Logan that he was still awake, given all the work that had to be completed. Thomas’ work schedule for the week was impacted by a rather unwelcome last-minute change, so Logan, of course, had to take a figurative evening shift.

What surprised Logan was that Roman was awake too.

It seemed as though it was going to be a sleepless night for both of them. Roman brushed off his presence in front of the coffee machine as nothing; a mere necessity in light of the new change. Though in hindsight, Logan knew more. The shift in schedule was a result of a production issue, which meant that the idea had to be re-worked. So of course Roman would be awake.

Roman, ever so kind of him, hence decided that Logan’s presence in the kitchen was a ‘sign from the heavens’ that he needed company (when really, it was just the result of Logan needing a refill). He then brewed coffee for the both of them and invited Logan to spend the night in the Imagination.

Logan would never admit it, but he was always intrigued by the Imagination. It was almost like Roman’s secluded workplace, separate from the Mind Palace and the rest of the sides. Not many of them ever really thought it was worth the visit; after all, they all had their own responsibilities, and the Imagination was simply Roman’s. However, Logan’s curiosity couldn’t help but lunge at any opportunity to visit; and while he knew none of it was real, he always left feeling rather awakened and alive.

So that was how he found himself sitting on a grassy hill in the Imagination, with Roman beside him, lying down on his stomach with his elbows propping him up slightly. Logan hadn’t touched his notebook in what felt like hours, only lifting it to mask a yawn. Roman, however, appeared to be busy picking at the grass below him.

“Do you have nothing productive to be doing right now?” Logan said, breaking the silence between the two. “Thomas needs a new idea before his friends arrive in the afternoon for shooting the revised takes of his video.” A pause. Logan added hesitantly, “I believe I cannot continue without your final verdict.”

“Aww, you can just say you need me, Erlenmeyer trash!” Roman said in a pouty voice; one that made Logan tear his eyes away from the dramatic sight. Determined to be seen, he rolled over onto Logan’s lap, flinging his hand onto his forehead. “Just say that you need me like one needs the air above – that you need me like one needs the ocean and all that it bears– Logan! Just tell me you can’t live without me!”

A beat of, quite frankly, unapproved silence. Logan just scoffed.

“That is obviously not the case.”

Roman rolled his eyes, but kept his energy steady.

“Anyway, I’m workin’ on it!” he exclaimed defensively, yet Logan couldn’t find it in himself to believe him. After all, Roman wasn’t even looking at him.

Instead, he rolled over to a patch of grass further away from Logan, landing in the same position as before. He then lowered himself ever-so-slightly, the grass nearly grazing his nose, before slowly plucking an individual piece of grass from the ground.

Logan sighed. “Roman, I do not see how your inefficient gardening tactics reflect that you are ‘working on it’.”

Roman looked up at him dramatically, his eyes narrowing at him.

“I’m rewiring his brain, Logan.”

Logan placed the blame for what happened next entirely on his sleep-deprivation. He blinked, the words registering in his mind. Roman, not breaking eye contact with Logan, then placed the single strand of grass in a patch not too far away from where it originally grew. Logan watched in some kind of twisted horror as the grass straightened in its new place, then moved in the same way the rest of the grass did.

“Are we–” He stood up frantically, grabbing his tie. His next words come out as a hushed whisper. “Is this Thomas’...”

A wide, pearly grin. “Figuratively, Specs.”

His eyes widened, staring at the grass he once sat on. If the grass—and hence, the Imagination—was a mere representation of Thomas’ brain, that meant– well that meant he was sitting on Thomas’ mind. The breakthrough, no matter how revolutionary, was utterly horrifying. What if he had stepped on an important synapse, damaging it permanently? What if that rock he idly kicked on the way to this hill represented a part of Thomas so essential to his development? What if–

Suddenly, Roman broke into loud, hyena-esque laughter. Logan stared at him, his eyes blown wide with fear when it suddenly hit him.

Logan took a deep breath and resumed his place on the grass slowly, adjusting his glasses.

“Now is not the time for falsehoods.”

Roman wiped a tear that was probably just for show. “Oh come on, Oscar the Protractor-Pouch; it was really funny.”

“Not in the slightest.”

(Logan would never admit it, but he found it a little amusing. An infinitesimal amount, some might say. At least, in its execution; not its purpose. It was because he was tired though, nothing more.)

“Besides, we needed something to wake both of us up,” Roman said, swiftly rolling back to Logan’s side. He softly bumped against Logan’s knee.

It was flawed logic, but Logan could appreciate that the logic was at least there.

Logan lifted his pencil from his ear to resume writing—or at least, to resume his attempts at writing—then paused.

“What were you doing, then?” he asked, looking down at Roman. He shrugged.

“I noticed some grass that was out of place.”

He said that as if it were obvious.

Logan continued to stare at Roman, who was still picking at grass absentmindedly. He stared at Roman while he bouncing some possible ideas off of him. And while Logan contributed a great deal to their conversation, he couldn’t quite focus on anything else other than the clear image of Roman.

Roman, whose creation was so vast yet so meticulous; whose attention to detail was almost too impressive to be true. Roman, his companion with a work attitude and ethic that bewildered Logan to great extents. Roman, who worked so hard for so long on a job Logan dismissed as something that could be done in one’s sleep. Roman who, Logan suddenly realized, didn’t sleep much at all.

And that was when Logan truly saw Roman for the first time, under the stars and on the carefully-crafted grass of the Imagination.

So, naturally, he wrote the observation down in his notebook to possibly revisit later.

---

Observation #12: When Roman is upset, he runs his hand through his hair; and he does so as if no one else could notice.

“You are not listening to me, Roman.”

“Uh, I don’t think I like what you’re saying, which means I’m probably wasting some brain cells listening to you, Sir-Nerds-A-Lot!”

“That is not my name. And that is not how brain cells work. You would know that if you were actually listening to me.”

Roman huffed, running a hand through his hair. He threw his head back, as if motioning at the ceiling to come watch yet another one of their disagreements unfold.

As much as he didn’t bother himself with feeling, Logan couldn’t help but feel bad for Thomas, who was standing helplessly in between their quarrel. It was always like this when it was just the two of them; Virgil nor Patton being present to mediate the situation.

He could possibly stretch this illogical guilt to Roman as well. He had not meant to anger the other side, but he just couldn’t help it. He was frustrated with his behaviour, how he was talking as if he– and hence, Thomas– were invincible. It was reckless, it was foolish, it was...well, stupid.

Still, Logan knew now where the figurative line had to be drawn. It didn’t take many arguments with Roman for him to recognize when his anger reached a point that was impossible to work with.

Logan took a deep breath, adjusting his tie.

“Okay. I see now that we are at a figurative crossroad with this discussion,” he said as cooly as he could. “Perhaps we should take a break.”

Thomas blew out a sigh of relief, throwing his hands up in the air.

“Thank you!” he cried out, already moving past Logan and towards the kitchen. “I’m gonna get a glass of water.”

“Yes, yes.” Logan noted the way Roman scrambled to pick up his own sanity as he spoke. “Let’s all take five.” He eyed Logan. “Even dunces need breaks between their...their dunce-ing.”

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose, letting a bit of his own frustration slip.

“You are one to talk.”

Roman tilted his head at him. “Oh really?”

Shit. Logan pushed his glasses up, trying to maintain his composure.

“You are burned out, Roman,” Logan carefully said. “That is to say, you have overworked yourself not only in this conversation, but in your work in general. Therefore, it is not illogical to conclude that your burn-out is one possible reason why you are lashing out at me.”

Roman’s eyes went wide. “What are you–”

“Which is why we can resume talking about this matter at a later date. After all, you are not thinking logically. You are dismissing Thomas’ well-being for the sake of work, you are stressing him out to immeasurable extents — this isn’t you.”

“What do you know about me?!”

Logan blinked. Roman looked as if he was frozen in time, still lunged forward at him. Despite the distance, Logan could see the darkened rings under his eyes.

He didn’t answer Roman’s question for a while. It was most likely rhetorical, but even if it wasn’t, he didn’t know how to respond. After all, twelve recorded observations and a whole lifetime with Roman didn’t help Logan truly understand him.

But as he stared at Roman, who was surely close to tears, he couldn’t shake the familiar pang in his chest.

Through the glassy space between them was a reflection.

“I know myself,” Logan responded quietly. “It’s...it’s not good for anyone, Roman.”

It was quiet between them for a while. Roman drew himself back slowly, as if burnt by his words; and for a split second, Logan feared he had said the wrong thing.

Then, Roman wordlessly nodded at him. His stare burrowing through him like a bullet through a mirror. Before Logan could say anything else, he sunk out before Thomas returned, leaving Logan to conclude their discussion alone. His fear faded into a slight buzz in his chest.

(His tripedations were later reassured when he found Roman sleeping in front of the TV in the Mind Palace, Moana playing hazily in the background.

Logan sat beside him, stared at him for a bit, and then pulled out his notebook. He wrote something about the way Roman slept—peaceful, despite the storm behind his eyelids—before slowly nodding off as well.)

---

Observation #56: When Roman sings to Virgil, he does so by changing the song to fit a minor key. To Patton, he mostly sings him songs in C major. To himself, it varies. Perhaps he’s just practicing.

It was a hard day for Logan, and it was a long day for anyone else. When logic ran itself thin, there wasn’t much for Thomas to do other than wallow alone in his bed.

Logan felt Virgil and Patton on his skin all day, clouding his logical reasoning until it was barely there. It made Logan feel stupid and helpless; like he was some kind of joke.

On days like this, Roman was surprisingly the figurative glue of the group. He would visit Virgil’s room first and listen to his worries, helping him channel his emotions into poetry and songs. Then, he’d bring Patton cookies and watch home-videos with him until Patton felt comfortable moving on.

And Logan wasn’t sure why Roman bothered to visit him, but he did.

They couldn’t say much in Logan’s room, so they played along with the unspoken laws of his space and thought quietly to themselves instead. Roman was the only other side who understood why Logan’s room was mostly quiet; or at least was the only one to accept it. When no one talked, there was the smallest amount of room for subjectivity of any sorts.

Logan liked to think Roman found the idea clever; but judging by the way Roman looked at him with those eyes resembling that of a small puppy, Logan realized that he just found it sad.

Still, Logan’s room seemed to accept Roman’s classical music.

(So did Logan.)

At one point, Roman nudged his head to the bookshelf in Logan’s room, seemingly asking for a recommendation. The two leave his room with a few books in hand and smiles bigger than they initially were; Roman’s brighter, and Logan’s now there.

They make their way to the Imagination where Logan now spent a lot of his free time. Roman didn’t even need to extend an invitation anymore; all he had to do was stand in Logan’s doorway and nod at him. Then, Logan would conjure up a new notebook and follow suit.

(Logan found it strange how Roman didn’t notice the piles of notebooks labelled ‘Observations of the Imagination’. Or if he did, he made an effort not to pay attention to that corner of the room.)

(Logan was also relieved he kept his own personal notebook close, yet out of sight.)

It was halfway through Roman’s dramatic reading of “A Brief History of Time” when Logan broke into sobs. It was spontaneous and cruel that the tears couldn’t will themselves out of existence– that they even existed in the first place– but Roman didn’t seem to mind.

He didn’t mind how Logan ranted about how illogical it was that he was crying, or how illogical it was that Thomas felt like he had nothing when he had everything. He didn’t mind how Logan cursed at himself for two minutes straight in an indecipherable mess of the English language. He didn’t mind that Logan called himself ‘faulty’ and ‘broken’ (but he did frown sadly).

And he didn’t mind when Logan laid his head on his shoulder, so drained from the sudden burst of emotion that he couldn’t lift himself up anymore.

“You need to do that more, Specs,” he murmured when enough silence had passed. He took Logan’s hand into his own and rubbed it gently with his thumb.

“Do what more?” Logan scoffed, his voice hoarse from the strain. “Talk illogically?”

Roman laughed, pressing a kiss to Logan’s hair.

“Please.” Logan’s breath hitched at the sincerity. “I promise I’ll try to listen.”

Neither of them mentioned the kiss for the rest of the night because Roman started singing before Logan even had the chance to question its occurrence.

And when Roman sang to Logan, the key didn’t matter at all.

What mattered more was the sound. It couldn’t be contained by terminology, but rather by how it danced in the air that hung above them before it was carried off by the wind. His voice ran across his skin through goosebumps, as if someone wrapped Logan in velvet sheets. It sifted seamlessly through each verse, smooth as caramel and filled with its sweet, sugary taste.

Roman cared for the song just as much as he cared for his creation. He picked at each note like a strand of grass, as if carefully pressing them into imaginary sheet music in the dirt.

Logan would never be able to find the words because he kept going back to the same one:

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.

And for a split second, the clouds in his mind parted, and the conclusion he reached seemed crystal clear.

Roman was beautiful.

---

Observation #92: It has been decided that these observations no longer apply to a person, but rather to a constellation. Evidence for this conclusion can be found in the freckles around his nose; or in his bright, shiny smile; or in the fact that his spirit, if those were to exist, simply housed a million, trillion stars – an entire universe, one might say.

At least, that is what it feels like nowadays.

Logan only understood love once he understood Roman.

Roman was fire, burning and warm. At one point, Logan had no problem describing Roman as his own personal hell – though at this point, that conclusion wasn’t even that far off.

Because it hurt sometimes to look at Roman; to see him laugh with the others in a dazzling display of light and sound. It hurt to see him surrounded by love Logan wasn’t able to pick apart and understand, let alone reflect.

He wasn’t broken. Roman made him understand that all too well.

But he was incomplete; and it didn’t take long for Logan to realize what he was missing.

There was a hypothetical theory called space dementia; where astronauts in orbit become so entranced by the immense vastness of space that they grow obsessed with its beauty.

And while there wasn’t much research done on the subject, Logan knew that his heart pulled towards the sight of Roman.

Roman was unlike anything Logan had ever seen or felt before. He was a million stars all wrapped up in a cluster in his chest, a vessel for something far more beautiful than this world deserved.

Perhaps that was why he held himself so tightly on the nights they would spend sleeping in the Imagination together (Observation #45). Perhaps it was because he was holding onto that cluster so tight; tight enough that no stars would escape. After all, the tiniest of disturbances would cause the whole universe to fall apart. He was as delicate as the velvet skies they laid under, yet burned so brightly when given the chance.

And when Roman showed him even a glimpse of his creation, Logan was, for lack of a better word, star-struck.

The piece Logan was missing took the form of a star, its edges worn and old as time itself. And it shot itself across the sky every night, as if flinging itself in their direction.

There was no set definition for what it was because Roman changed it every day. However, the idea remained the same.

Logan was missing Roman’s love.

“How long have you known?” Roman whispered as they stood on their hill, the Imagination stretching far beyond them.

“I do not know,” Logan replied, though the word ‘forever’ rests on his tongue. He took a step forward and grabbed Roman’s hands. “But I came to my realizations not too long ago. I decided that it would be illogical for me to hide this information from you, so I have decided to tell you now. I hope this does not change things.” A pause. “At least, changes them negatively.”

“Logan…” Roman’s eyes looked so soft. It made Logan’s heart ache and made him vow to love Roman as passionately as he could, if given the chance.

“I know it does not make much sense that I can harbour such a feeling but I...I do.” He mustered up a smile. “I love you.”

“You can feel, nerd,” Roman giggled, taking a step closer towards Logan as well. His forehead pressed against his, and the tips of their noses grazed each other’s.

He was so close. Logan’s skin caught on fire as Roman cupped his cheek, his other arm holding him tightly around his waist.

“I love how you feel,” Roman murmured. Logan’s breath hitched at the words. “And I love you too.”

Observation #93: There will never truly be enough words capable of describing the feeling of kissing Roman. But one thing is for certain.

He is air and he is light, and he is the missing piece.

After all, his lips fit almost perfectly.

(Though further experimentation is necessary in order to reach a solid conclusion.)

---

click here for a new and improved masterlist of all my writing if you’re interested ^v^

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fic #thomas sanders #thomas sanders fanfic #thomas sanders fic #logan sanders #roman sanders #logince #logince fic #logince fanfic #logan/roman #logic/creativity #gabbie writes things

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goldenworldsabound · 4 years

Text

The Onsen Episode

This is technically for the “Misty” samhain selfship prompt which I KNOW is a stretch but let me have this lol. I want to say that this fic falls completely outside any semblance of canon. But I couldn’t resist writing this down once Set-chan and I discussed the idea :p

Word count: 1295

Content warning: mention of (but no description of) non-sexual nudity

All Auron had wanted was a relaxing break in the onsen. The rising steam of the hot water as it mixed with the brisk day made him feel at ease despite missing his usual shades and collar. It was peaceful.

Or at least, it would have been, had he not been stuck with Tidus and Wakka. The two couldn't seem to sit still in the hot water, pushing each other and generally making a nuisance of themselves. Kimahri chose not to partake in the hot water, sitting cross legged on a nearby rock, quietly observing.

Auron closed his eye, resting his arms on the edge of the pool. Perhaps he could block them out.

"Hey Auron!"

Auron groaned at Tidus' loud voice. He cracked his eye open, shooting daggers at Tidus, who was directly in front of him, with a grin on his face. A mischievous, boyish grin. Auron could already tell he wasn't going to like this. And there was Wakka beside him, a similar boyish expression on his face.

"Yes, Tidus?" Auron asked, trying to keep his tone even.

"So you and Wendy, huh..." Tidus said slyly, waggling his brows.

"You two seem close, ya?" Wakka asked. Both of them watched for Auron's reaction.

"...that is none of your concern." Auron replied. At least his face was already flushed from the hot water. He looked to the side, willing them to leave him alone.

"Don't be like that!" Tidus responded with a pout, crossing his arms. It became a smile soon enough. "It's obvious, so there's no point in hiding it!"

"I'm not being like anything." Auron shot back, looking clearly annoyed. "I'm not hiding anything."

"That's good ya, cause if you were trying to hide it you've been doing a terrible job." Wakka added.

"Hide. What." Auron asked through gritted teeth, despite himself.

"That you're in love with Wendy!" Tidus blurted out.

"I-" Auron flushed darker. He wasn't sure what he'd expected but he found himself at a loss. "I am not!"

"Dunno, seems like she's the only person you get a little tender and soft around, ya?" Wakka smirked. "It's real easy to see you know."

"You must be imagining things." Auron snapped, scowling. "I don't get tender or soft for anyone-"

"Kimahri thinks that you are in denial." Kimahri interjected, crossing his arms and staring directly at Auron, who looked back with barely masked surprise. "And Kimahri is certain that Wendy cares for you, too."

Everyone stared at Kimahri for a moment.

"If even Kimahri knows, it sounds like you're just gonna have to accept it, Auron." Tidus continued smugly, raising a thumbs up at Kimahri, who stared at him for a moment before looking away.

"..." Auron closed his eye, pressing his lips together into a thin line. He opened his eye again, and suddenly shifted to send a wave of water at Tidus and Wakka with his arm. The two boys yelped in surprise before the water hit them. "Just let me rest in peace." He grumbled, settling back into his spot on the side of the spring.

"Oh no, it is ON now, right Wakka?!" Tidus said, glancing at Wakka.

"It sure is!" Wakka agreed. They both looked at Auron, and began violently splashing water at him.

"I'm going to make sure you both regret that."

---------------------------

Meanwhile, in the other bath, Yuna, Lulu, Rikku, and Wendy were having an animated conversation about battle tactics.

"Wow, mechs are so cool! I'm so grateful the Al-Bhed didn't let our knowledge of them die out." Wendy said, smiling at Rikku.

"YEAH! It's too important to just let it go!" Rikku replied with a passionate punch to the air. "Magic is really cool and all, but I don't see why we can't have both."

"It's certainly something I hadn't questioned much, until this journey." Lulu added thoughtfully.

"I hadn't either. Wendy did her best to keep her secret mech projects away from us." Yuna said with a giggle.

"Aha, clearly not good enough, I didn't realize you'd seen any of them." Wendy laughed a little.

"You had secret mech projects?!" Rikku asked, slapping her hands onto her face, before flailing them in the air. "Tell me tell me!"

"They weren't very impressive! Most of them were failures. And out on Besaid I didn't have much access to tech anyway." Wendy pouted a bit. "I was just...curious if I could make...well, I tried to make something that would respond to magic and put it on the television. Like, the...the form of the energy, I guess. But I think that was rather ambitious for someone with my level of knowledge."

"Ooh, that sounds cool though!" Rikku's eyes were sparkling.

"I had no idea. Was there some application you had in mind?" Lulu asked.

Wendy shook her head. "No, not really. I guess I was curious if different types of magic showed up differently. Especially if my modifications to spells like Blizzaga actually made a difference in strength or structure or if it was...pointless?"

"Oh but Wendy, it's so clear that your modified spells are different than other peoples'!" Yuna chimed in. "Using Blizzaga to make a defensive move is...simply unheard of!"

"She's right." Lulu nodded in agreement.

"Well yeah, but with spells like Shell and Protect and even the Nul Element spells it seems...superfluous. Like, sure it lets me create somewhat equivalent effects without learning white magic, but I do know white magic, and I'm not sure if there would even really be a time savings..." Wendy sighed.

"Things can be cool without serving a purpose." Rikku added, shrugging. "Not everything has to be the most important thing ever."

"Ha, okay, fair." Wendy smiled. "Thanks, everyone." The group went quiet for a moment. It was then that they heard splashing and yelling coming from the other bath.

Lulu shook her head. "Why in Spira are they yelling?" She asked, looking up at the sky with disbelief and a hint of a scowl.

"Uh, I hope everything is okay over there...what if there's a fiend or something?" Yuna gasped, putting her hands over her mouth.

"I think they'd probably let us know. But they're big boys anyway they can handle it!" Rikku giggled. "Even if it'd look a little funny fighting naked."

Her remark seemed to shut up Wendy, who had been just about to speak. Her face flushed, as did Yuna's.

"Fighting...naked." Wendy mumbled, staring down at the water. She slid herself in deeper, as if to hide. She considered the image of muscled Auron, swinging that huge sword around while she could see every ripple of muscle across his body. The thought got her heart pounding. Oh, dear.

"That is...certainly an image." Yuna laughed, covering up her own response to the thought of seeing Tidus naked. "Are you thinking about Sir Auron, Wendy?" She asked, deflecting any attention she may have been about to receive.

"Huh?" Wendy blinked, suddenly aware of everyone smirking at her.

"Oh yeah! Are you, are you?" Rikku asked.

"That would be quite a sight, wouldn't it, Wendy?" Lulu piled on as well, smirking knowingly.

Wendy stammered in vain before snapping her mouth shut to collect her thoughts.

"It's not very nice to gang up on me." She squeaked out. "Auron is, Auron is just an old friend of mine." She was screaming internally as her voice cracked - she hardly sounded convincing. "B-but surely anyone could appreciate his, er, his physique, no?"

"Seems like you were stricken by the thought," Lulu pushed. She shrugged. "Just an observation."

"Yeah! Just saying!" Rikku added.

"You two would be a wonderful couple, though." Yuna said, going the extra mile.

"YUNA!" Wendy put her face in her hands. "Can we please discuss something else?!"

#selfshipsamhain2020 #fic #our happy ending #ffx fam #selfship #self ship #self shipping #selfshipping #self insert #scheduled

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zestria13 · 4 years

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Final Fantasy 15 Thoughts (Spoilers!)

So, I just finished playing Final Fantasy 15 Royal Edition and I have many feelings about it. As I understand it, I have avoided many of the basic gameplay and story problems by buying the Royal Edition, which has all of the patches, dlc's, and fixes many of the bugs encountered when FFXV first came out. Oh, and I have watched the brotherhood anime and the Kingsglaive movie. Overall, my first experience with FFXV is much more complete than it was when the game was initially released (that is my understanding anyways). To be clear, I enjoyed playing FFXV (at least a good portion of it), but I have many issues with it too. One of my main issues with FFXV is the plot, especially the plot following the rite in Altissia. I have read many complaints about how dark FFXV gets after this point and how it becomes a very narrow, plot driven narrative as opposed to its earlier more easygoing and open world setting. To some extent, I agree with these complaints. This change in the game feels very sudden and forced to some degree. However, I personally tend to play heavily narrative games because I like deep, complex plotlines. This turn into a plot driven narrative is not my main issue, though it was, in my opinion, too abrupt a change in the game. My main issue following the events in Altissia, simply, is that the game wasn't as much fun to play after that point. For a game promoting the concept of brotherhood and comradery, that pretty much disappeared after the events in Altissia. Don't get me wrong, I understand the events in Altissia were traumatic for all of the characters and that caused most of the tension, but it was like we were playing with a different group of characters than we started with. All of the comradery seen previously in the game, from the pep talks, to characters interactions, to the short quips in battle (My fav was between Noctis and Ignis, the "You got my back" and "Always" in reply) had created this atmosphere of a team, of a brotherhood that was connected not just by duty, but by genuine friendship.

But then Altissia happens, and the group just...completely falls apart. There is such an emotional whiplash between the first part of the game and the second part of the game, and its jarring. I honestly felt uncomfortable playing the game after the events in Altissia because the atmosphere was tense and strained, and the comradery present in the first half of the game became nearly nonexistent. Frankly, the game never recovers from this mood shift, and the rest of the game has a sort of sullen, discomforting feel to it. And I know people would argue that the brotherhood comes back together at the end of the game, but I would argue that true reconciliation never happens between the characters, instead making their comradery at the end a byproduct of their circumstances. They never truly deal with the problems created by the events in Altissia and afterwards. They just push them aside because they need to do so in order to work as a team and save the world. Now, is it possible that the remaining trio living in darkness may have dealt with their issues and figured things out, but we wouldn't actually know because we aren't privy to anything that happens during those 10 years. Maybe the game wanted you to understand Noctis's perspective in this way (though they don't really touch on how incredibly disorienting that time skip must have been for Noctis). However, the point stands that there was never really time at any point in the rest of the game following Altissia for the group to reconcile and come back together as a cohesive unit.

That leads me to another huge issue I take with the plot of this game. The ending. I know, already, there are people who will comment and say that "Not everything has a happy ending" and "The sacrifice was necessary to save the world", and so on and so forth. My issue with the ending comes back to the question of why. Especially after having watched Episode Ardyn, I just don't feel that the game gives us a clear cut reason as to why any of the ending needs to happen the way it does. Ok, so the sun goes down and doesn't come up after Noctis is pulled into the Crystal, which means demons have pretty much free reign and everything is much more dangerous. Got it. But why did the sun disappear? I know the game explains that there are organisms infected with the Starscourge that release a light-absorbing miasma, which are the cause of the lengthening nights (though you need to be fairly thorough in your examination of items to learn this). It also mentions the idea that the Oracle dying is related to the longer nights and the disappearing sun, though it never really explains why besides the fact that the Oracle can heal the Starscourge. While I understand that her healing those with Starscourge helps to limit the amount of miasma being put into the world, it seems rather unlikely that one person can ever hope to keep up with that demand. Also, we only ever saw Luna heal people who had not fully turned into demons yet, and I would assume that those people aren't giving off the same level of miasma as fully turned demons. And, we know those fully turned demons exist, in the form of demons the party runs into and the MT's that the empire uses. I'm just not sure it is believable that the Oracle, by themselves, is actually healing enough people to actually prevent the endless night in the first place. As for the other part of the explanation, how did those organisms proliferate to the point where it caused an endless night? Based on what we hear from characters in FFXV and read in the research notes, the appearance of the longer nights was incredibly rapid, which begs the question of why those organisms suddenly started infecting creatures and producing this miasma so quickly in comparison to any other time in the history of this world (as far as we know). All in all, I can't think of a solid reason given in the game as to why the endless night even happens, or perhaps, why it hasn't happened already.

Moving on, after Noctis is absorbed into the Crystal, we do a ten year time skip. Back to my question of why, why did Noctis have to be in the Crystal for 10 years? I know he went in to gain the power of providence, but 10 years seems a bit excessive. Maybe that’s just me. Ignoring the fact that almost all of the living things in the world would have died without 10 years of sunlight, the fact remains that, in all likelihood, most of the creatures living in that world would have perished, either by being killed by demons or due to a lack of resources. In all honesty, there probably aren't many people alive by the time Noctis returns, and it’s hard to say if a civilization would actually be able to recover from that kind of devastation. Anyways, let's move on to what is my biggest contention with the plot. The prophecy. I have to say, I really, really dislike this plot point in the game. For one, it makes no sense. The true king, in this story, exists to purge their star of the darkness. Ok, cool, love the vague terms. But again, why? The darkness, which basically refers to the Starscourge, has existed for at least 2000 years at this point in the world. If the gods were so invested in this issue, why didn't they address it earlier? Why wait for a so called chosen king after at least 2000 years of this darkness ravaging their world? And what makes Noctis the chosen king? Simply because the gods said so? If that is the case, why didn't they choose a chosen king earlier? I know, after watching Episode Ardyn, that Ardyn was also a chosen king with the ability to absorb Starscourge from other people into himself. An ability, I might add, granted to him by the gods. But when Ardyn tries to ascend to become a king, the Crystal, where Bahamut resides, suddenly rejects him because of his ability (which, again, was given to him by the gods), and so he is rejected basically by the gods via the gift they gave him. Which makes no sense. As we know, this action leads to the circumstances we see in the game.

To me, at this point, it seems that the gods on Eos are incompetent and create this prophecy in order to fix the problem they created. This seems to become more glaringly obvious when Bahamut tells Ardyn (in Episode Ardyn) that he literally is a pawn in their game to fix the problem they created. At its core, that is what makes me so very frustrated with this prophecy plot line. It seems that the characters in this game are no more than pawns being made to do what the gods tell them to do, and that everything in this world is preordained. Not only does that rake against my own beliefs as an individual, but it ruins the purpose of the game for me. If everything is preordained, then what is the point? It also hurts my perception of the characters as well because the characters, except for Ardyn maybe, never think to go against the determinations made by the gods, they just go along with it. They never stop to consider trying to find another way and instead simply accept their fates as is. I understand there is something inherently powerful and moving in sacrificing yourself to save others, but making it fate instead of an active choice lessens the impact. Noctis doesn't choose to sacrifice himself to save Eos, it is forced upon him. There is no sense of choice here, merely one of acceptance. The cruelty of Noctis' preordained fate disturbs me. Not only is Noctis just randomly chosen to die to save the world, but the gods see fit to inform his father of that when Noctis is 5. I cannot truly imagine the depth of sorrow and helplessness probably felt by Regis in being told that his son is basically a sacrifice. Undoubtedly, knowing that weighed heavily on Regis and I'm sure at times that knowledge put a dour edge on his time with Noctis. One of the saddest things about Noctis' fate is how little time he actually gets to live. I know he is technically 30 at the time of his death, but he really only lived 20 years. Not only is his life cut short, but he actually loses a third of it in the process of becoming the ideal sacrifice for the gods. To me, Noctis' fate is just unbearably cruel. And don't misunderstand, I actually like games that have darker themes and angst in them, but I think there is a balance in crafting stories and this story didn't quite find a balance. And the thing is, I think the creators of the game have acknowledged that too, as they have now created 2 alternative storylines where Noctis doesn't die and his fate is subverted in some way. Personally, I prefer the message given in the Final Fantasy 7 remake where the characters actively fight against a pre-determined destiny, instead of simply accepting their destiny as is. I have more thoughts on the subject of Final Fantasy 15, but for the moment I will end my writing here.

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judgmentofcorruption · 4 years

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Episode 0

Judgment of Corruption, pages 4-18

Is it greed to wish to be pure?

This world has now become a bundle of impurity.

I don't think that's a bad thing. This world certainly wasn't originally created to be absolutely clean and free of imperfections.

Take, for example, "water".

This thing that is vital to so many living beings is not pure in actuality, by and large. Mud, sand, salt, bacteria, and other sorts of organic matter besides…Despite all these impurities being mixed in it still wets the earth, or falls from the sky.

You need to perform a little bit of effort if you want to get purified water. The simplest and easiest method that humans undertake is distillation. You heat water until it evaporates, and then you cool it so that it condenses back into liquid. What you produce by doing this is still not “pure” water in the true sense of the word, but it is at least relatively safe to use to slake one’s thirst.

Even such a fundamental component like “water” needs to go through these phases in order to become pure. And since it isn’t completely so even then…It’s obvious that it’s a much harder matter to make pure something more complicated than that, like “humans”.

You could say that for humans to become pure beings in a material sense is largely impossible. Therefore, humans seek a spiritual “purity”, and have the tendency to make this into a virtue.

This in turn means that when it comes to those who differ from them physically and spiritually in this world—Or perhaps calling it “society” would be more accurate?—they have a habit of taking these heretics in society and loathing them as “impurities”.

Leaving the preface aside for the time being, right now I shall elucidate on the sight that stretches on beneath me.

First, relating to the whole region that this area is in--Humans have given this place the country name of "Holy Levianta". There was also a time long ago when it was called the "Magic Kingdom Levianta". Or, going off of a denomination particular to this current time period, combined with several of its neighboring countries you could also call it the “USE (Union State of Evillious)”.

Anyway, a red-brick building stood at the very center of this country—and I was clinging to the ceiling of its biggest room.

A big black star was painted on the ceiling. I don’t know if this building was named “the Dark Star Courthouse” as a result of this feature or if it was because it’s called “Dark Star Courthouse” that this star was painted--I know I learned it somewhere, but I've forgotten which it is.

Here and now, a bit of history was coming to an end.

A woman who had sought to be “pure” was now, for that reason, being eliminated from society as an “impurity”.

This social event by the name of a “trial”—she was the lead role, standing in the center of the Dark Star Courthouse’s great courtroom as the defendant.

“I will declare my verdict.”

The young head judge's calm voice rang through the courtroom.

The whole visitor’s gallery was packed full of people. That spoke to how much of the world’s attention this trial had.

“For the crimes of murder, larceny, and violation of the special law on witchcraft, the defendant Elluka Ma Clockworker…is sentenced to death.”

Upon hearing the judge’s verdict, all of the audience started to rustle.

"Oh…Oh God."

"How could this be…"

All of those who clutched their heads despondently were wearing the same religious habits. There were also those among them praying, rosaries in hand.

They, and Elluka who had just received her death sentence, were clergy of the Levin faith.

On the other hand, there were those who smiled with satisfaction at the verdict, those who glowered at the defendant with anger in their gaze, and those who simply watched over the proceedings without changing their expression.

"Kill the witch!" someone in the gallery suddenly shouted. Perhaps one of those who had a grudge against the defendant.

With that shout as the trigger, the courtroom began to grow increasingly into an uproar, and the judge slammed the gavel in his hand twice against the stand.

“Silence.”

His voice was unconcerned, and by no means loud, but with that the court became quiet once more.

The power to command the room—you could say that was one of the abilities sought after by judges. Just by seeing this single scene you could infer that he was quite capable in his job.

After letting out a sigh, the judge began his explanation on his verdict.

"To begin with…Though all present to witness this today already know of this, bizarre phenomena have been occurring in every region. For example, the other day a small forest here in the east of Levianta changed into a desert overnight. That was something that occurred spontaneously. If that were the only thing it would not be entirely beyond the realm of possibility. However, the issue is not limited to just that. --A baby was born between a certain husband and wife. By all rights this should be a happy occasion, but the second he saw that child the husband went mad with rage, and the wife grew severely disturbed. Why? ...Because even though the husband was an Elphe, and the wife was from Marlon, the baby was born with black skin, resembling neither of them."

I could hear a woman sobbing from the visitor’s gallery, but the judge ignored it and continued on.

“The husband sued the wife for the crime of infidelity. This trial was conducted by one of my subordinates, and the end result was that the wife was cleared of any wrongdoing. For no matter how extensively the World Police investigated, no evidence came forward to suggest that the wife had had an affair. Perhaps there are those who think this absurd. But the Dark Star Courthouse judging the wife innocent was not done on the basis of this fact alone. –Examples like this are occurring in every household in the world right now. The birth of children that are unlike their parents or their ancestors, completely ignoring their genes…Things that are scientifically impossible are genuinely occurring.”

His explanation seemed fairly roundabout. I would have liked him to just get onto the main topic of the basis of his verdict, but perhaps it was appropriate consideration for a judge to have, given the world’s interest in this trial.

Not all of the people in the visitor’s gallery were highly educated. By so neatly explaining the line of his reasoning, he may have been trying to get them to understand how he arrived at sentencing the defendant to death.

“In the kingdom of Beelzenia to the south, creatures with skin an inhumanly white like limestone are said to be rampaging all over the region. The truth is unclear, but there are reports that these are corpses that have crawled out of graveyards. The world is in a whirlpool of chaos so severe that we cannot laugh these off as jokes. And the source behind all of these things—"

“Are witches!"

Again someone shouted from the gallery.

The judge cleared his throat, and pounded the gavel.

“—The USE unified government has concluded that the cause of this progression of bizarre occurrences is that they are done by the magic of ‘witches’. At first there were objections that this was an unscientific, even anachronistic conclusion. However…as a result of the research done by our scientists, we have already confirmed the existence of ‘witches’ throughout Evillious history. This was made clear by the testimony of historian Sir Heaven Jaakko given in this court.”

The judge dropped his gaze to the defendant's chair. The woman there—Elluka, having just received her death sentencing, made no sign that she was losing control. She only looked up at the judge’s seat, silent.

She just looked to be faintly smiling.

“—Due to the ‘special law on witchcraft’, the World Police have up until this point arrested many suspects who were thought to be witches, and in this Dark Star Courthouse all of them have been given the death sentence. However…the strange occurrences in the world have shown no sign of resolving. This does not mean the conclusion of the World Police and the Dark Star Courthouse is incorrect. This worldwide chaos cannot be brought about by a single ‘witch’. Peace will not come to the world until we have exterminated all witches.”

The judge once again looked at Elluka.

“The defendant is also someone who was arrested by the World Police under suspicion of being a ‘witch’. However unlike the others, she bears the name of the witch ‘Elluka’, who appears in history. This court is treating the name ‘Elluka’ as one that is passed down among witches throughout the generations, and has acknowledged that the defendant is the current holder of the title.”

Humans are clever creatures, but that doesn’t mean that they could always derive the correct answer on everything.

I knew that the woman in that defendant's chair was certainly "Elluka". But she by no means was a figure who had merely inherited that name.

The Sorceress of Time, “Elluka”, had always been the same being.

Of course, the average human wouldn't know that.

--It sounded like the judge’s story had finally moved on to the main topic.

“The immediate charges the defendant was arrested for was the murder of Sir Mata Corpa, the Minister of Finance of the Lucifenian Republic, and larceny. A priestess of the Levin church, the defendant did on the night of April 4th, Evillious year 944, sneak into the Corpa estate and murder the afore-named victim. Upon stealing the ‘Marlon Spoon’ which was being stored inside the estate, she was caught in the act by an investigator of the World Police’s International Works Department ‘Justea’. Thanks to investigation taken afterward it was confirmed that the defendant had eighty-four other offenses—”

After that the judge rattled off both the nature of those offenses, and just how heinous a person Elluka was.

“—Furthermore, the World Police’s main office has determined that the defendant is ‘Elluka Ma Clockworker’, who is thought to be the leader of all ‘witches’, and this court has now indicted her as such. The defendant has acknowledged all of her crimes but shows no sign of introspection in her conduct; the blame that she must take responsibility for as the cause of all the chaos in the world is enormous, and from a societal point of view I have determined that there is no other recourse than for her to face capital punishment.”

The long explanation on his verdict had come to an end.

“Court is adjourned.”

Immediately after the judge pounded his gavel one last time, the viewing gallery once more broke out into an uproar.

But the judge showed no sign of quieting them down. He silently stood up and then started to walk towards the exit. Other judges followed suit.

Several reporters with notebooks in hand dashed outside from the gallery. Their articles that “Defendant Elluka Ma Clockworker Given Death Penalty Verdict” would surely be front page news tomorrow.

Elluka did not look towards the viewing gallery. She showed no indication that she concerned herself with the cries and jeers from behind her, still simply standing there with the same expression on her face.

Two of the courthouse’s guards approached her, and seized her arms. She did not resist them, and was taken out of the courtroom.

I also left the courtroom, following after Elluka. When I caught sight of her in the hallway I once more clung to the ceiling.

Elluka and the guards walked on without saying a word.

But an intruder suddenly appeared there.

"Elluka!"

I could see a single man running towards them from deeper in the hallway, opposite the direction they were heading.

Three other guards were running after him.

Right before he could reach Elluka he was tragically seized by the guards.

"Let go!"

The man struggled but his lean body was no match for the brawny guards, and he was unable to shake them off.

Elluka stood in place, silently gazing at the man.

Her expression appeared to have changed slightly from when she was in the courtroom.

It was slightly…it was only slightly, but she looked sad.

After a moment, a new figure appeared from a nearby door.

"Release him."

It was the young head judge who had run the court session earlier.

“Uhh…But…”

While the guards holding the man hesitated, the head judge continued, "It doesn't matter. He has a relationship with the defendant. We can allow him one last conversation with her at the very least.”

An act of kindness by the soft-hearted judge…so it may have looked to someone watching.

But as the guards released the man he grew enraged at the judge.

"You bastard…So you betrayed me, did you!?”

“Betrayed you? Now now, what are you saying, Gandalf? I merely made a just and upright judgment…No more, no less. What? ‘The defendant will surely be found innocent, as she has the backing of the Levin church and the Freezis Foundation’--Was that your simplistic line of thinking?”

"Guh…"

"You're far, far too naïve. Unfortunately she earned far more enmity than necessary. ‘Elluka Ma Clockworker’ must be put to death…The people who believe such are in far greater number than you’ve imagined.”

“…And how much did you accept from these ‘people who hate Elluka’?”

“Ha ha, now what could you mean by that, I wonder…Are you suggesting that I, the director of the Dark Star Bureau, have been paid off by bribes? To think that I would be suspected of such by one of my own colleagues…how sad,” the head judge said, pressing on the inner corner of his eye in an affected manner.

“How dare you speak to me so shamelessly—"

“It’s quite unlikely, most unlikely for that to have happened, Gandalf. Unlikely, and yet…Well, let me put it this way…‘Money is the best lawyer in hell’.”

“Why you…”

Even now Gandalf grit his teeth as though he were about to knock him out, but the head judge quickly held a hand out in front of him as though to restrain him.

“Please calm down. I have no wish to make you a defendant too. …Honestly, on the contrary, you should be thanking me. Right until the end I never revealed your—relationship with Elluka. By all rights that is improper of a head judge to do. But…I didn’t want to tarnish your career with this. As a colleague, and as your friend.”

“…I no longer have any wish to stay in the Dark Star Courthouse. I’m fed up with this corrupt organization.”

“Are you insane? You would waste my help after I went to such pains…Fine. You’ve made your decision. I won’t stop you,” the judge related, his tone extremely mournful but his expression joyful.

Gandalf clenched his trembling hand into a fist, but eventually he let it drop, shoulders dropping with a crestfallen air.

No matter how he struggled, he could not stop Elluka’s execution—He had given up on it.

Someone else starting walking over from the entrance to the courtroom that Gandalf had run in from.

“Sir…”

It was a woman wearing a servant uniform, looking roughly thirty years old.

She was holding a young baby against her chest.

After briefly patting the baby’s head, Gandalf made this request of the head judge:

“In the end…Only a few words would be enough. Please, let me speak with Elluka.”

“Of course. That’s why I originally had the guards release you, after all.”

“With…the baby, if possible.”

“That baby—Ah, I understand. I see. So that’s how it is. Well, I don’t mind.”

Upon hearing those words, Gandalf gratefully inclined his head. Then he and the servant started to move towards Elluka—but there he turned back to the head judge for a moment.

"I said this earlier, but I will quit being a judge. …However. This doesn't mean that I have completely lost hope. This doesn't mean I'm going to quit being a man of "justice". I know that someday, someone who has a truly just heart will change this corrupt institution. When that happens, I know that rotten bastards like you will see hell. Head of the Dark Star Courthouse—Hanma Baldured!”

"Ha ha ha, that’s quite the bark for a beaten dog. …Well, I look forward to when that day comes." The judge--Hanma, returned once more to the door while laughing him off.

After seeing him leave, Gandalf turned back to Elluka and walked to her side.

"Elluka…"

"Gandalf…"

The two of them gazed at each other, bringing their faces closer and gently exchanging a tender kiss.

"That I should be parted from you like this--"

“I’ve been prepared for this, Gandalf. I do use ‘magical arts’. That is a true fact. …And you accepted me anyway, despite knowing that.”

“But…this trial is no more than a farce! I know there’s no way these bizarre events in the world are your fault. You—the Elluka that I love, could never be the kind of person who would do such things! It’s obvious that this story of you murdering the Minister of Finance is a false accusation!”

"--Thank you. It does my heart good just to have someone here now who believes in me."

The two of them kissed one last time.

A tragic parting of two people who loved each other. An innocent defendant and her lover. Well, something like that I suppose.

But I’ll say it again. Humans are not always wise, and cannot always derive the truth.

I knew. It was indeed utter nonsense, this idea that Elluka was causing the chaos in the world with magic.

And not just Elluka. All of the "witches" judged at this Dark Star Courthouse were innocent.

These strange occurrences. Their cause lies not in “witches”.

These were errors induced within a much larger stream than that.

And the only ones who knew the true reason for them--

Were "Gods".

…In that sense, you could say that Elluka was innocent.

However.

The other crime that she’d been charged with—the murder of Minister of Finance Corpa, that was without a doubt something Elluka committed.

It was a crime she had carried out in order to obtain that “Marlon Spoon”…Or to speak more accurately, to obtain the being that was inside it.

The baby abruptly started fussing.

“Oh dear, do you need some milk? Or a new nappy?”

The servant flusteredly started to rock the baby.

Upon noticing that, Elluka leisurely made her way over.

"Lady Elluka…Please, hold your baby,” the servant said with tears in her eyes, handing the baby off to Elluka.

The moment that Elluka gently held him in her arms, the baby immediately ceased crying.

"…He's a smart boy."

“Yes, he properly knows who his mother is."

"And he also understands that his mother--is a 'scary woman when angered'."

"Ha ha…Perhaps so." While holding the baby, Elluka turned to Gandalf. "What you said to Hanma earlier--"

"Hm?"

“That one day, someone who has a truly just heart will change this corrupt institution…I hope our boy becomes that person.”

“…Honestly I have no desire for him to ever get involved with the Dark Star Courthouse.”

“…That’s pretty unfair coming from you, having already made your decision to quit this place.”

"I'm sorry. I know better than anyone what a weak man I am. But—"

“It’s alright. Not everyone has the determination to fight. But…the one who will ultimately decide what he does is this baby himself.”

“Yes…True.”

Elluka brought her face close to the baby and lightly kissed his brow.

“Bye bye. Grow up to be a good man like your father…Gallerian.”

Led along by the guards, Elluka disappeared further inside the courthouse.

As he watched her from behind—No. Gandalf could not continue to watch any longer.

He had fallen to his knees on the floor, and started to loudly sob.

As though following along with him, the baby being held in the servant’s arms also began to wail.

Well then.

This is a very intriguing matter to me.

In this world—this space that I call the “Third Period”—Elluka is a very singular being.

She possesses an extremely long lifespan, and has continued to involve herself in the history of this world.

…To speak more strictly, it’s a bit of a faulty expression to call who she is now by the name “Elluka”, but explaining that would be very complicated, so I’ll leave that alone.

She is a mere shadow of what had once been the Sorceress of Time “Elluka”…If you think of her that way you would not be mistaken, for the time being.

I’m not just interested in her, but also the fact that she’s given birth to a baby.

As far as I know, she has until this point never done such a deed before.

What sort of change has there been in her mental state?

And what sort of path will that child—Gallerian Marlon, take from here on out?

I think I shall observe Gallerian for a short while.

Perhaps he could become a savior for this world.

Or perhaps he could become a pest that leads it to its ruin.

I still don’t know which.

All I can do is to simply gaze on.

--I have yet to introduce myself.

It’s not that I’m trying to hide it, or put on airs about it.

Only, in this story I am a simple observer, and as such I don’t have any particular importance.

Even so, if you would like to know about me—

Then for now I will at least tell you my name.

My name is “Sickle”.

I am a simple bat, with nothing unusual about me at all.

directory------next>>

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cat-scarr · 4 years

Text

What I Love About "So Long and Thanks for all the Smoothies"

A controversial episode to like, I know.

Just to get the obvious out of the way, I don’t think it’s reasonable to come to the conclusion that Ben is portrayed as a “sociopath” during the events of this episode, specifically near the ending. I realize that perhaps it would have made a clearer point to address the concerning truth about the old universe and everything in it being dead and gone, but I feel as though the target audience for this series was a factor in the decision to keep it simple, so to speak.

I don’t want to believe that the writers intended for Ben to come off as some kind of emotionally detached “sociopath.”

On top of that, resorting to calling him names solves nothing and only unnecessarily creates a bigger problem, especially within the fandom.

Anyway, what I do love about the episode “So Long and Thanks for all The Smoothies” is the maturity, level headedness, and leadership Ben displayed in the moments leading up to the accidental destruction of the universe.

Unfortunately, those rational, dare I even say admirable actions, have gone unnoticed due to his “failure.” Because he had “failed” to save the universe from total annihilation, he is not worthy of being seen as a hero, apparently.

It’s not like the first step to being a hero is possessing the courage to try, right?

Back in Ultimate Alien, we were introduced to Sir George - the founder of the Forever Knights, and by extension, the first ever Forever Knight, who was trusted with the power of Ascalon to defeat Dagon.

Similarly to Ben, he was viewed as a hero because of his dedication and courage...but he didn’t succeed in his mission. He failed, and then, as we know, it was up to Ben to save the world from Dagon.

But do you think that George failing to stop Dagon, even while armed with the power of Ascalon, made him less of a hero in the eyes of the Forever Knights?

I wouldn’t assume so. He shouldn’t be discredited for all that he had done.

Even if George’s failure meant that Dagon would win and take over the world, he would still be regarded as a hero for his courage, persistence, leadership. and years of dedication to his cause.

Did Ben not display those same heroic traits in the moments leading up to the Anihilaarg going off? Why are those so disregarded?

And then to blame him for the destruction, and call him a sociopath? That’s insulting.

The episode opens with Ben and Rook protecting civilians from what we later learn to be the Contemelia ship anchoring itself to Earth, before heading up to space to investigate further. During this scene, this dialogue takes place:

Max: “Now, remember, Ben. We don’t know anything about that ship or what’s on board, so be careful.”

Ben: “Come on, Grandpa. You know me.”

Max: “Uh huh, that’s why I said it.”

A common theory about Ben is that he puts up a ‘front’ to hide his true feelings, so as to not come off as less of the hero he knows he is capable of being. That is possibly what his behaviour at the end of this episode, after all is said and done, could be attributed to as well. But, while that is true to an extent, as shown in certain scenes throughout the series, I don’t believe that is always the case.

What his line here shows me is that he believes in himself and his ability to handle the situation. And, logically, when one believes in themselves, they translate that confidence in a genuine effort to do their job properly. Which, up until a certain...less intelligent character causes catastrophe to strike, Ben was doing.

I’ve theorized about this phenomenon before, but it seems as though if another character, who, for whatever reason, is seen as more ‘credible’ than Ben (most often Max, Gwen, Kevin, or Rook) comments about him in a way which is not entirely positive, it implies, to some of the audience, that Ben should not be taken seriously because he is not “mature” enough to be doing the job that he is.

And, by extension, calling him names becomes justified.

Max reminding Ben to be careful seems to make some of the audience expect him to not do a good job, or fail, as if he is too reckless or immature to be responsible or careful. However, his actions following this interaction show the opposite. He takes his job seriously enough to do everything in his power to prevent this potentially extremely dangerous device from falling into the wrong hands.

And, that effort should be valued and acknowledged.

Once Ben and Rook enter the ship, they are met with multiple morally conflicting characters. Namely, the Vreedle brothers, self proclaimed fugitives who are here “scavenging for weapons”, and Argit, who is in possession of the Anihilaarg, which he most likely stole from the ship earlier.

Not long after, an arguably even more dangerous character is added to the situation - Emperor Milleous, an Incursean dictator, who also conveniently has “destroyer of galaxies” as a part of his title.

Now that is someone Ben would reasonably consider a threat! That is why he immediately begins to put together a plan and give out orders because he knows what to do. What I like about this is that his actions are rational, level headed, mature, and careful.

Ben: “There's no way that, uh, whatchamacallit's real, but the Incurseans are, and they're bad news.”

Just like Max asked of him, he displayed admirable leadership skills in what is arguably a high stress, highly dangerous, situation.

Ben: “We've got to catch the Vreedle brothers before they set off that...[Annihilaarg]! Whatever. I still say it's not a real threat. But I don't want to take any chances when it comes to the Earth.”

I want to address this next point simply because I just know that someone would inevitably bring it up against Ben: that he didn't initially think the Anihilaarg was a real threat until it actually destroyed the universe.

It's a tiny box with a red button inside. Would ANYONE seriously take that as a threat?

Besides it’s appearance, he did take the fact that this potentially dangerous device was in the hands of irresponsible, and known to be chaotic, fugitives, as well as being sought after by an Emperor, who has “destroyer of galaxies” in his title, and who probably wouldn’t hesitate to set off the Anihilaarg himself, given the chance.

Ben didn’t want to take that chance, especially when it comes to the Earth, like he said. THAT was the real threat.

You could say that this is nothing new, because that is what his job entails and that is what he does every episode. But, that’s it exactly. That’s what he does. That’s what he did.

So why is he still being looked at as a sociopath?

Why isn’t somone like Argit, for example, being seen as a “sociopath” when it is ultimately his fault that the universe was destroyed?

Argit: “The Vreedle brothers have left the building!”

Ben/NRG: “With what might be the most destructive device in the universe?! And they're heading to Earth with it! Argit!”

Argit: “Oh, like this my fault?”

I don’t see anyone talking about how he willingly handed the Anihilaarg over to the Vreedle brothers, knowing far better than Ben at the time what it was and what it could do. Besides the fact that Argit is already a morally conflicting character, he actually seems pretty loved by this fandom, but that’s another discussion entirely.

What made Ben a “sociopath”, allegedly, was that he was not shown having some kind of emotional existential crisis, directly after the recreation of the universe.

And, like I had stated earlier, that most likely was due to the fact that the target audience for Ben 10: Omniverse is 8+. That is something we have to acknowledge, even if older audiences still enjoy the show.

The show is not intended for twenty somethings and, as you can probably tell, does not include the use of explicit language or mature themes that take things to the extreme. And before you say that this is why UAF is superior, even the guns used by police in an episode of Alien Force replaced bullets with lazers to accommodate to the target audience. Which, for the record, was also 8+.

(Ben 10: Alien Force - “Save The Last Dance”)

If the writers were going to include a storyline about a device which destroys this fictional universe, and how the superhero Ben 10 makes a whole new one to “bring everyone back to life”, they are going to do so lightly. I’ll agree that the implications of such a thing happening in the real world are concerning, and it would have been appreciated by older audiences if those implications were further explored. But, because the writers are catering to a young audience which they are probably not expecting to jump to the conclusion that their hero is a “sociopath”, that was left out.

Ben, in the episode “So Long and Thanks for all the Smoothies”, was shown taking responsibility of his role as the leader, doing everything in his power to prevent a catastrophe. That teaches the young audience how to maturely handle situations, and prioritize what is important while staying rational and reasonable. When disaster does strike, he is also shown doing all he can realistically do.

It should be admired that, if all he could do at that point was recreate the universe, he brought back everything and everyone the same to the best of his ability. He could have left out the things that would inconvenience him, like Vilgax, or Will Harangue for instance. But he didn’t, probably because it wouldn’t be morally right.

Even if an older audience has a bone to pick regarding the implications of the plotline, you can not deny that Ben had been a good role model for a bad situation. That is what a young audience can take away from this, and I, personally, respect that about his character.

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gyakutengagotoku · 4 years

Text

GS4 vs AJ:AA - Episode 3, Part 2

Good, I’m not having problems with tumblr this time.

This one’s a bit on the shorter end, which I notice goes for many day 1 trials in cases with more than one trial day, but I can still find plenty of things to share, comment, and explain as always! Like with the previous episode, most of the bulk of work was from the introductions and initial setting.

While the previous one, I could squeal over Yakuza references and all that jazz, this one’s more for Klavier’s fans and classic rock junkies out there. I enjoy the occasional taste of rock too, but sorry, I’m forever a Eurobeat gal.

Oh, if only there were a future AA case about street racing... You just know that Edgeworth would be on that case. He’s probably the only prosecutor (besides maybe Klavier) who can make a sick drift and would know a thing or two about cars. Too bad for the car-less defense attorneys at the Wright Anything Agency, though.

> Courtroom

> 1st Witness Testimony, press 1st statement

<Apollo> “なくした”っていう発想はないのかな。 Isn't it possible he simply misplaced them?

<Klavier> “なくした”で済むか！ Misplaced them!?

カギはその後、死体の手にニギられていたんだぞ！ Misplaced items don't just wander into a murder victim's hand on their own!

<Judge> な。なんですって‥‥！そ。それでは‥‥ What's this!? Prosecutor Gavin, if your keys were in the victim's hand...

ハンニンはあなた自身ということになるではないですかッ！ That makes you a prime suspect!

<Klavier> ‥‥♪　“遅効性の恋はアトロキニーネ”‥‥ ..."Love, slow-acting and new. Atroquinine... is waiting for you..."

<Trucy> ハナウタ、歌ってます。 He's singing something.

<Apollo> 大物だよな。なんにしても。 Does everything with this guy have to be so over-the-top?

Just wanna share lyrics. The original line, taken literally, is "Slow-acting love [is like] Atroquinine", but it's so vague that it can be reworded many ways, since it’s a song lyric.

> Press 4th statement

<Klavier> 部屋から脱出できる出口は、あの通気口だけだった！ That air vent was the only way out of the room!

そして、そこには、被告人の指紋が残っていた！ The defendant's fingerprints were found on the grill!

‥‥さあ、おデコくん！ ...Well, Herr Forehead?

ここから、キミはどんな“物語”を想像するかい？ What fairy tale does this suggest to you?

<Apollo> ぐ‥‥ッ！ Urk...!

<Klavier> ‥‥ちなみに。その通気口‥‥ Only one could pass through that vent, that "doorway to heaven"...

“天国のトビラ”をくぐることができたのは‥‥その妖精だけ、さ。 ...and that one is our pixie.

Another song reference, but instead of a "Stairway to Heaven", it's a vent-way.

I've been watching way too much Among Us lately... but this episode from back in 2007 seems suspiciously related to a 2018 game, somehow.

> Finish pressing, present any evidence

<Apollo> 検察側の主張をくつがえす‥‥ これが、その証拠品です！ This evidence does more than contradict, it flips the whole case on its head!

<Judge> ‥‥‥‥‥‥‥‥‥‥ ......

<Klavier> どうやら、ぼくの言った通り。ハッキリとした“反証”のようだね。 Thank you for presenting evidence that is both clear and plain, as requested.

<Judge> たしかに‥‥ ハッキリ“ちがう”と分かります！ Yes... Clearly and plainly wrong!

その証拠品で、検察側の主張をくつがえすことはできません！ I'm afraid the only thing flipped on its head here was you as a child, Mr. Justice.

<Apollo> （うう‥‥ちがったのか‥‥） (Ugh... I guess that wasn't it.)

Savage, Your Honor! The original line seems a bit disappointing in comparison: "This evidence doesn't overturn the prosecution's case at all!" That said, it does give me an idea for where the "flip on its head" phrasing came from.

> Select "no proof"

<Apollo> 反証のジュンビは‥‥ あ、ありません。 I... don't have contradicting proof, actually.

<Judge> そうですか。それでは、さっさと判決を‥‥ Too bad. Very well, this court finds the defendant...

<Trucy> ま、待ってください！ W-Waaait!

<Judge> な、なんですか。 Wh-What for?

<Trucy> 弁護側には‥‥えーと。は、“はんしょー”でしたっけ？ We have, uh, what was it called? Contradictual proof?

と、とにかく！ジュンビがありますッ！ Anyway, whatever it is, we've got it!

Meanwhile, I think this line from Trucy seems a bit out of place when "contradicting proof" isn't a very difficult phrase to say. Maybe they could have thrown in something sillier like "contradicting poof- I mean, proof!" and it'd work pretty well. In JP, she's still learning her words and especially kanji, so she usually pronounces words correctly, but doesn't write them out in the text.

I like to think that whenever Odoroki speaks and uses phrases that she isn't as familiar with, she actually breaks the fourth wall and takes notes on his textboxes. Hey, learning from your peers is a great way to study! Learning Japanese with your fave Ace Attorney characters is even better.

> Ask for new witness

<Apollo> 牙琉検事‥‥ まちがいありませんか？ Prosecutor Gavin, you claim that there were no witnesses to this crime.

『この事件に、　目撃者はいなかった』‥‥ Are you absolutely sure?

<Klavier> マチガイないね。‥‥誓ってもいい。この検事生命と‥‥ Absolutely. I'd swear it on my career as a prosecutor...

１００万枚を売り上げたヒット曲、《恋のアトロキニーネ》にかけて。 And on my million-seller hit song "Atroquinine, My Love".

<Trucy> ‥‥さりげなくジマンされちゃいましたね。 ...There he goes again.

<Apollo> ザンネンながら‥‥ この事件には、目撃者がいたのです。 That's too bad, because there was a witness.

Minor tweaking to song titles again. It was "Atroquinine of Love" before.

> 2nd Witness Testimony, present at 3rd statement, Perceive at 6th statement but point wrongly

<Apollo> あなたのココロの動き‥‥ オレには分かるんですよ。 You may have seen the world, but I've seen your heart.

あなたは、今の証言をするとき、動揺していましたね！ You were flustered during your testimony just now!

<Lamiroir> ‥‥‥‥‥‥‥‥ ......

<Lamiroir> あなたの言っていることが、よく分からないのですが‥‥ I do not understand what it is you are saying.

それは、日本語のジョークか何かですか？　さっぱりです。 Perhaps this is a joke, in your culture?

Making a note here about culture: It's characteristic of Japanese that since they have so many homophones and alike-sounding words or phrases, it's fairly simple to come up with puns out of the blue. You hear it all the time with Japanese comedians and writers who just can't help themselves and have to throw in a pun here or there. And because they can show up so suddenly, it can catch the audience off-guard, so they're more likely to appreciate the humor.

Relatively speaking, of course; as with any language, there are also those kinds of puns that are super obvious and cringy when delivered. As a language buff myself, I'm still fascinated with what goes into creating puns in the first place, whether or not they're cringy or clever.

> Present evidence to Lamiroir's contradiction to her own testimony

<Apollo> そして、こうも証言しました。事件については“何も見ていない” Furthermore, you testified that you had "seen nothing".

<Lamiroir> ‥‥！ ...!

<Apollo> お分かりですね‥‥ レタス氏が“撃たれた”ことを‥‥ Yet you knew that Mr. LeTouse had been shot!

あなたが、知っているはずがないのです！ How could you have known!?

<Lamiroir> ！　‥‥‥‥‥‥‥‥‥‥‥‥ ...!

<Lamiroir> きゃあああああああああああッッ！ Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeoooooooowrk!

<Judge> ラミロアさん！ Lamiroir!

‥‥あなた、まさか。何かをかくしているのでは‥‥ You aren't hiding something from this court, I hope!

<Lamiroir> ‥‥‥‥‥‥‥‥‥‥ ......

<Apollo> （ラミロアさんはウソをついた‥‥ 　ゼッタイに何かを隠している！） (That sweet song of hers was sounding a little too sweet!)

So, I'm not sure why Lamiroir's cries were localized to this. It sounds like something so out of place from someone whose voice is so beautiful and melodic usually. Maybe that was the point? Like, it's a subtle nod to sudden record-scratches or sudden cuts in a piece of music?

Fyi, Odoroki's last line here was simply: "(Lamiroir-san was lying... She has to be hiding something!)"

> Press newest (7th) statement

<Apollo> ほんの少ししか見ていないのに、よく“弾痕”だと分かりましたね。 Only a glimpse, yet you knew they were bullet holes?

<Lamiroir> ‥‥‥‥ええ。一目で分かりましたわ。 Yes. I recognized them immediately.

以前にも、銃の弾痕を、見たことがありますから‥‥。 I have seen bullet holes before, you know.

<Klavier> アナタは歌い手として、世界中を回られていますからね。 You have traveled the world as a singer...

この国よりも治安の悪い地域で、歌われることもあるでしょう。 You must have sung in places far more dangerous than our country.

<Lamiroir> わたくしの歌が必要とされるならば、どこにでも行かせていただきますわ。 I go wherever my voice is needed. Those places... are many, these days.

<Trucy> かっこいいですね！　ラミロアさん。みぬきも、いつかは海外に出たいな。 That's really cool! I hope I get to travel like Lamiroir some day.

<Klavier> ぼくも、レコーディングは海外ですると決めていますよ。 I plan on recording my next album overseas.

むこうのスタジオは、音のヌケがちがいますからね。 Their studios have a different sound, you know.

<Apollo> （へえ‥‥それは、発声練習にも　良さそうだな‥‥） (Hmm. Maybe I should go on a Chords of Steel tour, too.)

And this last line is totally different. "(Huh... it sounds like they'd be great for vocal training too...)"

("Far more dangerous", huh... Maybe she previously had a tour in the Republic of Zheng Fa... and maybe the Kingdom of Khura'in too.)

> 3rd Witness Testimony, finish pressing, select "There's a problem"

> 4th Witness Testimony

<Apollo> （すっかり忘れていた‥‥ 　オレの知らないところで‥‥） (I admit, I'd forgotten about the song...)

（そんなトンでもないオチが　ついていたなんて！） (But there it is now, waiting for me... the grand finale, as it were.)

<Trucy> あ！　それに最初に気がついたの、みぬきですからね、みぬき！ Hey! You know I was the one who first noticed that!

<Judge> “歌詞”に合わせて殺人など‥‥ I've heard of jumping rope to songs, and counting to songs...

“かぞえ歌”と“手まり歌”だけの世界だと思っていました！ ...But killing!?

<Klavier> 世界は、おジイさんが思っていたより広い、ってコトだね。 It's a wild world out there, Herr Judge.

<Judge> それでは！ Very well!

この、ナゾの歌を踏まえた上で、尋問をおねがいします！ We've heard one song and dance, let's get on to the next: the cross-examination!

<Apollo> （ベツに、歌にはナゾはないと　思うけど‥‥） (I'm not so sure I'm going to be doing much singing...)

By the way, "手まり歌" (temari uta) is roughly like playing handball to a song. A temari is a ball of usually extra kimono cloth wrapped together with fabric. Over Japanese history, it went from a handmade toy to embroidery art. Link to Wikipedia.

Also, "Wild World" is a 1971 hit song by Cat Stevens too. With all the talk of songs, I figured the loc team might have been able to slip in a subtle nod.

Last couple lines there: "Let's build on this mystery song and begin the cross-examination!" "(I don't think the song itself is the mystery here, though...)"

10/21/20 edit: Ash has enlightened me to one of Takumi’s inspirations. Like Agatha Christie’s And There Was None and Van Dine’s The Bishop Murder Case, where a murder seems to follow a nursery rhyme, a classic Japanese mystery novel by Seishi Yokomizo, Akuma no Temari Uta, is a murder mystery that follows the rhymes of a song.

And now looking into his works, I just realized this man is also the legend who wrote the iconic private eye Kosuke Kindaichi. Yeah, the same guy who’s said to be the grandfather to the MC of the Kindaichi Case Files manga, by Yozaburo Kanari. What a small world we live in, after all.

> Press 1st statement

<Klavier> なかなか悪くないじゃないか、刑事クン。イイ声してるよ。 Bravo, Fräulein Detective. Your singing... it's not bad.

‥‥そして、最後のパート。 Now, for the finale!

“Ｇｕｉｔａｒ，Ｇｕｉｔａｒ‥‥ 　ふたりは空へ” "Guitar, Guitar... Up together to the sky."

この歌詞の通り、盗まれたレタス氏の死体は‥‥ As it says in the lyrics, Mr. LeTouse...

“空高く”そびえるステージの上で発見された。 ...was found with a guitar, high in the "sky" over the stage.

どうだい？　これだけ一致してたら。もう偶然とはいえないさ。 No series of coincidences could be so well conceived!

<Ema> ‥‥カガク的に言ってもね。 He's right. ...Scientifically speaking.

<Apollo> （‥‥一体、　なんのコンサートだよ‥‥） (What would Wocky have said? ..."That concert was wack.")

<Trucy> あんな風に気持ち良さそうに歌われたら、反論できませんね‥‥ It's hard to argue when she pours her heart into it like that.

<Ema> ‥‥えーと。と、とにかく！犯人は‥‥ Ah, er, ahem! Anyway, the shooter...

Aw, I really wish I could have actually heard Ema sing... or at least hear her textbox beeps change in tone to the music. That would be a bit of extra coding work, though.

By the way, Odoroki was talking about: "(...What kind of concert was this supposed to be...?)"

> Press 4th statement again

<Ema> おそらく、犯人と被害者の距離は、２メートルもなかったはずです。 Furthermore, there was no more than five feet between shooter and victim.

これは、ハズすほうがムズカシイぐらいの距離です。 Hard to miss at that distance.

<Trucy> でも、マキさんは、目が不自由だったから‥‥ But, Machi can't see...

<Ema> おそらく、“音”と“気配”にたよって、撃った‥‥ He would have had to use sound and other senses to aim...

だから、ハズれたのでしょう。 ...and miss.

<Klavier> ‥‥部屋には大音量でぼくたちのナンバーが流れていた。 And our music was blaring over the room monitor.

音を聞くには、不利な状況だったと言えるよ。 Not the best circumstances for aiming by sound.

<Ema> だから‥‥ハンニンは、目が見えなかった人物‥‥ Which makes it very likely that the shooter was blind.

<Klavier> これが、検察側の主張だよ‥‥ Thus the prosecution's position.

<Ema> うーん！　やっぱり、カガク的説明って気持ちいいわね！ Ahh! Nothing like a scientific explanation to get the blood pumping!

<Apollo> （今は、　まったく同意できないよ‥‥） (Why's mine frozen in my veins, then...?)

It was just "(I can't agree with that sentiment at all...)" but I also wanted to make a joke about about "Apopsico".

> Press 5th statement

<Apollo> か、歌詞になぞらえた殺人だって、じゅうぶん、非カガク的です！ What's so scientific about a murder to lyrics!?

<Ema> 何よ！　それぐらい‥‥カガクで解明できるに決まってるでしょ！ Lyrics can be explained scientifically!

<Ema> カガクを甘く見ると‥‥ ケガするわよッ！ ...Never underestimate the power of science!

<Apollo> （うわ！　指紋検出粉のビンを、　ふりかぶりながら言うなよ‥‥） (Put that bottle of finger- printing powder down before you hurt someone, like me!)

じゃ、じゃあ！解明してみせてくださいよ！ OK, then explain it! Scientifically!

<Ema> ‥‥‥‥‥‥‥‥‥‥‥‥‥‥ ......

まあ。それには、まだデータが足りないかな‥‥ I require more data.

<Apollo> （なんだよ、それ！） (Hah! Likely story...)

"(What kind of weak excuse is that!?)"

> Press 6th statement

<Ema> そのことは、楽屋にいた全員に知らされていました。 Everyone backstage was told about the maintenance.

だから‥‥当然。マキさんも知っていた。 ...Including Machi Tobaye.

キャタツをのぼれば‥‥そこに、 “脱出口”がある、と‥‥ He would have known that there would be a way out at the top of that stepladder.

<Apollo> そ、そんな‥‥！今、初めて聞きましたよ！ But that's... Why is this the first time I'm hearing about this!?

<Klavier> ‥‥なぜ、あんなところにキャタツがあったか‥‥ You could have figured it out for yourself.

それを考えれば、カンタンにわかると思うけどね。 You only needed to consider what that stepladder was doing there.

<Judge> ‥‥どうやら、弁護人の異議は、キャタツに押しつぶされたようです。 ...Looks like the defense's objection has been squished by a stepladder.

<Klavier> どうかな？　おデコくん‥‥ Well, Herr Forehead?

もう、この証人の主張をひっくり返す武器はないのかい？ Out of ammunition, perhaps?

<Apollo> （‥‥なんだ？　この、牙琉検事の　挑戦的なタイド） (I've never seen Prosecutor Gavin so... so aggressive!)

（なんか、“不自然”な気が‥‥） (Maybe he's caught the scent of blood...)

That last line has gotten a bit more dressing to it. It went "(Maybe he's caught onto something 'unnatural'...)"

> Accept the prosecution's challenge, but present wrongly

<Judge> ‥‥‥‥‥‥‥‥ ......

<Judge> その証拠品に、検察側の主張を崩すチカラがあるとは思えません。 I'm not sure that overturns anything, Mr. Justice.

<Apollo> （うう。ちがったのか‥‥） (Ugh. Wrong evidence, I'm guessing...)

<Klavier> オドロキ・イズ・ブラインド‥‥ 何も見えてないのは、キミだったね。 Apparently both love... and Justice are blind.

<Apollo> （考えるんだ！　何でもいい‥‥何かないのか！） (I have to think! There must be something... anything!)

"Odoroki Is Blind... Seems like you're the one who can't see anything."

(I capitalized that because Kyouya said it in English.)

> Present photo of crime, point out the contradiction, Klavier takes the lead

<Klavier> ‥‥お楽しみはこれからだよ。おデコくん。 This is where the real fun begins, Herr Forehead!

<Apollo> ぎゃあああああああああああああああああッ！ Yeeeeaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrggh!

<Klavier> ‥‥さすがに、ヒトが悪かったかな。 I knew you didn't have what it took.

<Ema> サイテーです！ You... You jerk!

あたし、ナニしに来たかわからないじゃないですか！ Just what was I in here for? Comic relief!?

<Trucy> そうですよ！　あやまりなさい！ Yeah! Apologize!

<Klavier> はっはっはっ。いやいや、ごめんね。 Ah ha ha. Oh, sorry!

<Trucy> なんですかそれ！ちゃんとアタマさげる！ That's no way to apologize!

<Apollo> （やれやれ‥‥タイヘンな騒ぎに　なっちまったな） (He's angered the Trucy now. Look out...)

"(Oh boy... This trial has turned into one huge ruckus.)"

> Point out reason why Machi had to pretend to be blind (or not, it continues either way)

> 5th Witness Testimony, press 1st statement

<Apollo> どうして見えなくなったのかも、分からないのですね‥‥ So, you don't know why you went blind?

<Lamiroir> ‥‥その通りです。 ...I do not.

もしかすると、生まれつき見えなかったのかもしれませんわ。 I may have been born this way, in fact.

<Klavier> ‥‥彼女の過去について、余計なセンサクは無用だよ。 ...It's fruitless to attempt to pry into her past.

これは、きわめてデリケートなモンダイだからね‥‥ And, I might add, it's a delicate subject.

<Judge> 弁護人にデリケートを期待するのは、少々ムリがありますからな。 I'm not sure we can reasonably expect Mr. Justice to do anything delicately.

<Apollo> （シツレイな‥‥ 　たしかにあまり自信はないけど） (Hey! Why I oughta... take a deep breath and calm down.)

"(Hey... though I actually don't have much confidence about that either.)"

> Press 5th statement

<Judge> 《もくげきしゃ‥‥めがみ》でしたかな。 "The witness... siren"?

何度も聞かされましたぞ。弁護人の、迫真のモノマネつきで。 We've heard them many times. Along with a little play-acting by our defense.

<Klavier> 最後のコトバは、死神にノドをつかまれて、闇に消えてしまった。 I remember them well myself, but that statement is not to what I refer.

‥‥あのコトバには、 “つづき”があったんだよ。 I mean what he said before that.

<Apollo> “つづき”‥‥ （“めがみ”につづくコトバ‥‥） ...Before? (What came before that...?)

あッ！ Ack!

<Klavier> ‥‥そう。レタス氏は、こう言おうとしていたんだよ。 ...That's right. He tried to tell you.

《事件のことは、目撃者に聞け。　ただし‥‥その証人は‥‥》 When he said "can't see" he wasn't talking about himself.

《“目が見えないぞ”》 ‥‥ってね。 He was talking about the witness!

<Judge> めがみ‥‥えない‥‥ “目が見えない”ですか‥‥ッ！ I see!

<Klavier> “目が見えない”のは、ラミロアさんだけではなかったねえ。 Too bad the defense did not.

どうだい？　おデコくん。 Well, Herr Forehead?

少しは落ち着いて、モノゴトをよく“見て”みたらどうかな。 Try relaxing and "looking" at the facts first next time.

<Apollo> ‥‥ぐうッ！ ...Urk!

For this entry, it's entirely a matter of how LeTouse's last words had to be translated. The original Japanese script didn't leave a lot for him, and there were places where it was quite ambiguous. As it turns out, he wasn't saying "megami", as in "Goddess", but "me ga mienai", as in "unable to see".

"It was... 'The witness... Megami', if I recall. We've heard them many times, with a little play-acting by our defense." "His final words, just before Death clasped on his throat and he was consumed by darkness. ...Those words had something 'following' them." "('Following'... 'Megami'...?) Ah!" "...That's right. This is what LeTouse-san was telling you: 'Ask the witness about the incident. However... that witness...' 'cannot see.' "Megami... enai... You mean, 'me ga mienai'...!?" "Though, it wasn't just Lamiroir-san who 'didn't see'."

> Finish pressing

<Judge> ‥‥ごくろうさまでした、眉月刑事。たいへん、参考になりました。 Thanks for looking into that for us, Detective Crescend. It's a great help.

<Daryan> いやいや。かまいませんよ、裁判長さん。 Oh, no problem at all, Your Honor.

‥‥それじゃ、オレはこれで‥‥ ...I'll be heading out...

<Lamiroir> 待ってください‥‥！ Wait!

<Judge> ど。どうかしましたか？ラミロアさん‥‥ La-Lamiroir! Is something the matter?

<Lamiroir> 今の、その声‥‥ That voice just now...

<Klavier> ダイアンが��なにか‥‥？ Daryan?

<Lamiroir> ミスター・ダイアン‥‥ というのですか。 Mr. Daryan, is it...?

‥‥‥‥‥‥彼、です。まちがいありません。 ............ It was him. I am sure of it.

<Judge> “彼”‥‥なにが、ですかな‥‥？ It was "him"?

<Klavier> ‥‥ッ！　ま。まさか‥‥ Y-You aren't saying--!?

<Lamiroir> ２発の銃声を聞いたとき‥‥ レタスさんと話していた声‥‥ That voice I heard, talking to Mr. LeTouse... when I heard the gunshots fired.

そう。今の方です！ミスター・ダイアン！ It was him! It was Mr. Daryan!

Just making a point here since I forgot to last post: Lamiroir and later Machi are the only ones who still call people using "Mr." in English, in the JP script. However, for the briefest moment here, she refers to Mr. LeTouse with the general -san suffix instead, and I don't think this was something that was simply overlooked, since the line immediately after, where she accuses Daryan/Daian, she goes back to using "Mr." Perhaps Lamiroir is getting more and more in-tune with her other language outside of Borginese?

...I'm still sticking to my Poland theory, but they could be like a mix of Poland, Hungary, Slovakia... around there in Eastern Europe.

#gsvsaa #gs4 #ajaa #turnabout serenade #part 2

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psycho-slytherin · 5 years

Text

Off-Limits

Your big brother’s best friend has always been off-limits, but you’re tired of being treated like a little kid.

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: geek terms

WC: 2.9k

|mlist| ~ |birthday fics|

A belated birthday fic for @mypersonalityiskpop! Happy birthday!

You stare at yourself in the mirror and sigh. He’s only ever going to see you as a kid, his best friend’s little sister. He’s so annoying and cute and you hate him and you’ve had a crush on him since seventh grade and ugh.

“Y/n, do you have plans tonight?” Joon asks, knocking.

“Nah, I was just gonna watch Sherlock and eat ice cream,” you reply, opening the door to face your brother. Even though he’s only two years older, he’s almost a foot taller than you– when you were younger, you were the same height, and over the years you’ve watched him shoot upwards while you’re still on the short side of average.

“Well, can you make plans? I’m having the guys over and I don’t want you to bother us.”

You press your lips together. “No, I’m not going to rain check Netflix. I’ll stay in my room, so don’t worry.” You have this conversation every week; your brother hates it when you bother his friends, but it seems ‘bothering’ them just means saying hi or offering snacks. You learned early on that the only way to satisfy Namjoon was to leave them alone completely.

But Yoongi always tried to include you– even when you were younger and dumber and just wanted to be one of the guys. You’re not obsessed with joining Namjoon and his friends anymore, which is why it sucks so much that you still have this dumb crush on Yoongi.

Whatever. You fetch your bowl of ice cream and curl up in your bed to rewatch Sherlock. Halfway through the episode you hear the front door open, and raucous laughter rings through the house, cutting through Benedict Cumberbatch’s dialogue.

You roll your eyes. Namjoon wants you to pretend you don’t exist, but he’s always exceedingly loud with his friends. Thank goodness your parents are out at dinner.

“Yo, where the hell is Tae? We need an odd number of players for this session.” How is it, through two closed doors and across the house, your brother’s voice is so distinctive? You groan in frustration, reaching over to grab your headphones. Why are you expected to be the perfect little sister when Namjoon is so annoying?

Once your headphones are on and the volume is turned up, your evening becomes more pleasant… for about three minutes.

Your door swings open without warning, and Namjoon walks in.

“Joon!” you protest, taking off your headphones. “Get out!”

Your brother sighs. “This is a one-time offer, and it was not my idea. Look, our game needs another player, and Tae’s not gonna be here. Do you want to play with us?”

“You want me to play with you?”

“Yes or no, y/n?”

You should say no. Saying yes means seeing Yoongi, and dealing with a whole evening of being coddled and teased like– well, like a little sister. Still…

“Fine. But I reserve the right to leave if you guys get too annoying and testosterone-y,” you say, sliding off your bed. “Just let me change.”

“What’s wrong with your pajamas?” Namjoon asks.

You hesitate. They’re too childish.

“Your friends are all teenage boys, Joon. I’d rather be wearing a bra around them, thanks.”

“They don’t care, you’re just a little kid.”

“I’m sixteen,” you huff. “That’s not so little anymore.”

“Whatever, just hurry up.”

You spend perhaps too long in front of your closet– it’s been a while since Namjoon has let you hang out with his friends, and you don’t want them to think you’re still the annoying little one. They’ll think it anyways, though. You pull on a comfortable T-shirt and sweatpants. A step above pajamas, barely.

You stride down the hall and into the living room, where Namjoon and five of his friends are sprawled on the couch, the floor, the chairs, snacking on chips and fruits and more chips.

Almost unconsciously you zero in on Yoongi, who’s laughing at something Jungkook said. His gummy smile, even when not aimed at you, is messing with your heart. There’s a spot next to him where you would fit, and you’re tempted, so tempted– but Namjoon would kill you if he knew of your crush.

“I heard you guys were in need of another player?” you ask, settling down between Hoseok and Jimin, as far from Yoongi as you can. He’s wearing a grey sweater and black sweats– although, why you notice this, or care, or wish you had the confidence to sit by him, you have no idea.

“Aw, lil’ y/n-ie! It’s been a while!” Hoseok laughs energetically, ruffling your hair. You elbow him in the ribs and smooth your hair down. Yoongi’s looking at you curiously, probably because your messy introduction made you look like an idiot.

“Are we getting started?” You ask, ignoring Hoseok and his exaggerated wails of pain.

“Sure. I’m the DM, and we needed six to have even teams,” Namjoon says, passing you a D&D character sheet. “You can just be an NPC.”

“Sounds good.” Growing up with Namjoon, you’re familiar with the rules and rituals surrounding Dungeons and Dragons, and you fall into character quickly. Namjoon assigns you to whichever role he needs filled– barmaid, lackey, merchant, whatever. It’s honestly great fun, and you’d never admit how cute Yoongi is when he acts like his character, how warm you feel when you make him laugh.

“The ranger clearly knows more than she’s telling you,” your brother narrates, while you sit up straight, staring haughtily at the party.

“I’m gonna threaten her,” Jungkook announces.

“Roll for intimidation.”

Jungkook rolls the twenty-sided die before groaning. “Six.”

“Sir Cragg’s menacing glare falls short, and the ranger is unimpressed.”

You snort, still in character. “Are you trying to scare me, Sir Knight?”

“Wait, let me try,” Yoongi says, turning his attention to you– no, your character. “You know, we would really appreciate knowing the location of the dungeon. Surely someone as beautiful as yourself would know– and we’ve heard tales of your adventures; such an accomplished ranger would have no issue sharing her secrets, right?” He winks at you, and a shiver runs down your spine. He’s looking at you like you’re the only thing in the world.

Namjoon chuckles. “Roll charisma.”

“Gee, I wonder how a bard will do on a charisma check,” Jungkook complains. “He’s got a huge bonus.”

Yoongi tosses the die, and then whistles. “Nat fucking twenty! With my bonus, that’s twenty-six.”

Namjoon nods at you, and you fan yourself. “Well, I-I suppose I might have what you need, since you asked so nicely. In fact, I have a map with directions to the dungeons, and I can lead you there myself.”

“Damn, she’s actually blushing!” Hoseok hoots. “That’s the power of a nat 20.”

Oh no, are you blushing? Is it that obvious? Do they know? You can’t let them know.

“Well, that was fun,” you say, standing quickly and dusting yourself off. “Namjoon, you can hold down the fort– I’m going to my room. Wouldn’t want to bother you all.”

The guys protest, but you know they’ll just keep playing once you’re gone. You never really needed to be there in the first place. You hurry to your room and, once isolated, flop onto your bed with a sigh. You feel like a lovesick teenager… or a little kid with a crush.

A knock at the door startles you out of your thoughts.

“Go away, Joon,” you call, curling up under your duvet. “I’m not coming out again.”

“Then I hope I can come in,” says someone, but it’s not your brother, it’s a voice more gravelly, sleepier, quieter– a voice you’d recognize anywhere. Your heart beats faster against your will when you get up to open the door. Standing right outside, with his hands in his pockets and a soft smile lighting up his features, is…

“Yoongi?” you breathe. “What… what are you doing here?”

“Ah, they need an odd number of players. Since you left I decided to sit out the next mission so everyone else could play.”

“Oh. Uh, do you want to come in, or…?”

“Do you want me to come in?”

You swallow, your voice barely a whisper. “Sure.”

“Then yeah, please, it’s boring having to watch without playing.” Yoongi admits sheepishly, sitting down on your bed and surveying your room– thank goodness you cleaned it earlier. “Huh. You know, for however long I’ve known Namjoon, I’ve never seen your room. It suits you.”

“Oh, thanks.”

“So how are you, y/n?”

You start. “You called me y/n.”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow. “Did you change your name or something? Have I missed the memo?”

“No, it’s just… all of Joon’s friends call me y/n-ie, or little y/n, or don’t know my name at all.”

“Oh, I know the feeling.”

You sit down on the bed beside him, careful not to get too close. “You do?”

“Sure. Y/n, you know I have a big brother myself, right?”

“You’re a younger sibling?” You have to consciously close your jaw at his words. Yoongi, who’s so clever and seems to fit in everywhere, is the youngest? All your life you’ve had to deal with ‘Oh, you’re Namjoon’s little sister?’ You’re the little one, doomed to sit at the kids’ table forever, and never to be looked at as anything other than your perfect brother’s little sister. Do you have an inferiority complex? Maybe. A sibling rivalry? Sure. Even more feelings for the guy sitting next to you than you already had? Definitely.

“Yes, I’m the youngest,” Yoongi chuckles. “I was always trying to play with my brother and his friends when I was a kid, but he never let me. Then when my brother was older and started bringing girls home, he always told me to leave them alone. No matter where I go or what I do, people only know me through him. Namjoon was really the first friend I made that liked me better than my brother.”

“You guys have a good friendship,” you say affectionately. “As annoying as he is, it’s good to see that Joon’s got people like you around him.”

“Aw, thanks.” Yoongi smiles, bumping your shoulder. You laugh and nudge him in retaliation. Sure, you’re nervous– Yoongi’s almost intimidatingly pretty– but he makes you feel so at ease. Is it really possible that you could ever step out of your big brother’s shadow, like Yoongi has?

“Remember like six years ago when you ran into that glass door because Taehyung told you it was open?” Yoongi says suddenly.

You laugh. “Yes, and I remember being ten years old at the time. But you did the same thing when you were fourteen!”

“Wha- you weren’t there for that!” Yoongi exclaims, wide-eyed.

“I know everything that goes on in this house,” you reply, flipping your hair. You were thirteen at the time, and constantly trying to join Namjoon’s group of friends. So of course you remember Yoongi walking right into the door– you were hiding behind the kitchen counter when it happened.

Your brother’s friend suddenly goes very red. “Hopefully not everything.”

“Is there something I shouldn’t know?” you tease, your heart hammering in your chest.

“Just guy stuff– we all have our secrets, right?” Yoongi says, winking conspiratorially.

Why does he keep winking at you? You know it’s just a joke, you’re only entertaining him until he can go back to his friends, to your brother– but you can’t help but wish, just wish that he really were flirting with you.

It’s impossible, though– to your brother’s friends, it seems you’re permanently stuck at twelve years old.

“Secrets, yeah. I’ve got my fair share of those too.”

“Really? What’s one?”

You sit up straight in disbelief. “You do know how secrets work, right? ‘Cause it’s not that.”

“I know, I just thought we could play our own game since the others are having fun. Let’s swap secrets.”

“How is that a game?”

“We ask each other questions– if there’s a question we don’t want to answer, we have to trade a secret instead.”

You smile internally. It’s dangerous, sure, but it sounds kinda fun. Besides, you have watched all the episodes of Sherlock.

“Fine. Let’s play.”

“You can go first, if you want. Ask me anything.” Yoongi says, sits back confidently.

“What’s something Joon’s really bad at?”

Yoongi chuckles, a smile pulling back his lips to reveal his gums. “He’s great at DM-ing, but he’s shit at roleplay. That’s why he agreed when I had the idea to invite you tonight.”

“Pff, that sounds like him,” you snigger. “Alright, shoot.”

“What’s something you’re better at than your brother?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Weird question, but okay... well, acting, obviously. I’m better at making friends. I’m better at not sucking all the energy out of the room.” You take a deep breath and almost against your will, the words spill from your lips: “I’m better at having a lower IQ. I’m better at failing my classes. I’m better at being the second best, the one who no one remembers their name, I’m better at being ignored–”

You’re cut off by Yoongi leaning forward to wrap his wiry arms around you and hug you. You’re so focused on trying not to cry that you don’t even have a chance to blush.

“You’re none of that, y/n.” Yoongi says quietly, but with conviction. “You’re your own person, an amazing, intelligent person, okay? You’re fun and social and smart and funny and you’re more than Namjoon’s little sister, I promise.”

“Thanks, Yoongi.” You blink hard and realize he’s still holding you close, too close, he smells so good, and ugh why do you like him?

But after tonight– how can you be sure he doesn’t like you?

“My turn to ask a question,” you say, straightening up and fighting to keep your voice steady. “How old am I?”

He freezes, cocking his head. “How old are you? I thought you’d ask something juicy.”

“I said what I said,” you reply. You just want to know, just want to see if you have a chance.

“Um... Namjoon’s eighteen, I’m seventeen... you’re... fourteen?”

Something inside you– maybe hope– dies a little. Right. You’re a child, a little kid.

“I’m sixteen,” you say, a hint of steel in your voice, and it’s almost like Yoongi can see the frustration in your eyes, the way your fists clench, the way you press your lips together.

“Sorry,” Yoongi says softly. “Really. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. It’s just... you’ve always been off-limits, so I’ve never known enough about you.”

“Off-limits?”

“Well, yeah.” Yoongi runs his hand through his hair, avoiding your gaze. “Namjoon made it pretty clear that we weren’t supposed to bother you– he’s really protective of you, y/n. He didn’t want you near heartbreakers like Jungkook and Taehyung.”

Huh. That’s new information. “They’re not my type anyways.”

“Then... what is your type?”

“Uh...” you swallow hard. “Someone who gets my humor. Someone fun, clever, sociable. Someone who, I don’t know, sees me for me. I guess...” Someone like you. “How about you?”

“About the same,” Yoongi shrugs. “I’ve never been someone who only loves romantically. I’m attracted to people who I know I could be friends with.”

“That’s pretty sweet,” you admit. “And wholesome, for a teenage boy.”

“Your brother’s friends aren’t all villains, y/n.” Yoongi says. “You might even want to get to know us.”

“Namjoon won’t let me,” you reply. “I’m just a little sister– I’m not allowed to talk to you.”

“You’re talking to me now,” Yoongi points out. “How’s this feel?”

“It feels...” You’re comfortable, safe, happy. “Feels good. Nice.”

“For me too.”

You shake yourself out of the stupor of his intense gaze. “Uh, it’s your turn to ask a question.”

“Can I tell you something?”

“Is that your question?”

“Yeah.” Yoongi takes a deep breath. “That’s my question.”

“Then yes, go ahead.”

Yoongi’s eyes are almost pleading, and when he looks at you, his gaze is so electric it feels as though you’re rooted to your spot. “I like you, y/n. And you’re more than your brother’s sister, more than anything. I like you a lot and you don’t have to like me back, I shouldn’t even like you because you’re my friend’s sister but you’re more than that and I really like you.”

Your breath catches in your throat. Your heart– has it stopped beating, or is it too fast to feel? Yoongi is looking at you with earnest vulnerability, he gulps and you can see his Adam’s apple bobbing, and he likes you and he likes you and he likes you.

“But... Namjoon,” you whisper. “You’re not– I’m off-limits. You’re off-limits.”

“I don’t care about Namjoon right now,” Yoongi breathes. “All I need to know is how you feel about me. If you don’t like me, that’s okay. If you do, that’s great. I just... I just need to know.”

“I...” this has to be a dream. You’re dreaming. Your brother’s best friend, the one who you’ve liked for years, likes you back. “Yoongi– wow. I...” Aaah, you’re nervous. “I like you too. I’ve liked you since I was twelve, and...” you clam up, turning red. “Sorry, that was weird.”

Yoongi laughs, a newly beautiful sound, and touches his forehead to yours. “It’s not weird. It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

“Yoongi...” before you can say anything else, your door swings open and your brother marches in.

“Y/n, have you seen– what the hell?”

#bts #bangtan #yoongi #suga #bts suga #min yoongi #bts scenarios #yoongi scenarios #suga scenarios #yoongi fluff #bts fluff #suga flu #yoongi drabble #suga drabble #yoongi x reader #suga x reader #bts x reader #bts drabble

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michelles-garden-of-evil · 4 years

Text

Episode 29 Review: The Missing Cyanide

{ YouTube: 1 | 2 }

{ Full Synopses/Recaps: Debby Graham | Bryan Gruszka }

{ Screencaps }

Welcome back to the isle of Maljardin, whose lush foliage and majestic château mask a deadly evil, one who has grown deadlier with the acquisition of a bottle of cyanide. SIx episodes ago, Jean Paul Desmond removed the bottle from the medicine poison cabinet in the former laboratory of the late Dr. Menkin, only for Jean Paul’s ancestor Jacques Eloi des Mondes to spirit it away shortly after and hide it the-Devil-knows-where. Now the inhabitants and detained guests of the island search for the bottle before its contents can spell their death.

We open with Alison searching for the vial of cyanide in the aforementioned poison cabinet. (Speaking of which, the fact that Dr. Menkin had a whole cabinet full of bottles labeled “POISON” makes him appear just as suspicious as Jean Paul. What kinds of experiments might he have performed that required the use of poison?) For those of you who love to make fun of YouTube’s automatic captions (I hope it’s not just yours truly), the opening scene is a treat, with a whole 30 seconds of subtitled background music:

The YouTube caption bots have officially gone mad.

She sees Quito and asks him if he has seen the bottle, even drawing a picture of it to make sure he knows which one she’s referring to. He tries to tell her using various gestures, but she doesn’t understand the meaning, and neither Raxl nor Jean Paul is around to interpret. During his first two attempts, he touches his head and then sweeps a hand either outward or upward: “Jacques possessed Jean Paul and swiped it,” perhaps? For his third attempt, he points at himself, then towards the doorway, then makes a “chatterbox” motion with his hand, then points below. I think that means, “I’m going to tell Raxl” (or “I,” “go,” “talk,” “down below”) if only because he goes to fetch her to interpret next.

THE DEVIL JACQUES ELOI DES MONDES, here playing the role of the Greek chorus. Colin Fox doesn’t appear in this episode[1], but he did record a voice-over for Jacques’ portrait in advance. Jacques is also looking especially rosy in this shot--very cute.

Back in the lab, Raxl interprets Quito’s signs, and it turns out I was close with my guess on the meaning of the first combination. According to Raxl, touching the forehead followed by the swiping motion means “the master took it.” Alison asks when he took the bottle, Quito signs some more, and Raxl translates: “Two days ago.” She adds that she doesn’t believe that Jean Paul intentionally took it, but that “I fear that he was under a spell of that accursed Jacques Eloi des Mondes.”

After Alison says that the bottle contained enough cyanide to kill everyone on the island, Raxl makes the Sign of the Great Serpent for the first time, albeit with only one hand instead of both.

This brings up the issue of who killed Dr. Menkin (obviously Jacques) and Erica (true cause of death still unknown), and is reminiscent of the mystery of where the conjure doll and silver pin was hidden. Alison begs her to search everywhere including Jean Paul’s room--which is normally off-limits to her--for the doll and pin, even though that will end her erotic dreams about dashing chevalier Jacques. I suppose we all need to make sacrifices.

In the Great Hall, Raxl tells Quito that she is going to contact the Conjure Woman aka Vangie Abbott. Quito shakes his head and grabs her as though pleading for her not to do it. This is reminiscent of the scene in Episode 13 when Quito freaked out over Raxl’s mention of Vangie’s father, the Conjure Man, and also begged her not to. Kurt Schiegl did an excellent job conveying Quito’s thoughts and feelings without speaking. He could have gone into silent films, if they were still a thing in the sixties.

Quito is undead. Does he even still have a heartbeat?

She descends to the crypt and then waits for Quito to join her before entering the Not-So-Hidden Temple (good, atmospheric scene).

Some favorite shots from the scene.

Meanwhile, Matt finds Alison calling for her in the Great Hall:

OK, Captain Obvious.

She tells him about the cyanide and convinces him to help her find it, but won’t tell him who she believes has it.

Meanwhile, Raxl lays out some Tarot cards in the Not-So-Hidden Temple. “The Tarot is as Evangeline Abbott said. Now with the help of the Great Serpent, I shall summon her.” She begins a ritual, bidding Quito beat the drums as she calls for the Conjure Woman to join her.

We cut back to the Great Hall and learn that Matt now considers Raxl’s beliefs superstition, because she believes in Jacques’ ghost and he does not. He doesn’t believe in witchcraft or possession either. Remember, this is a man who said nineteen episodes ago, “The Tarot is the soul’s way to God. Any path that leads to God should have a minister’s approval.” He’s far from anti-superstition when it comes to the Tarot--and besides, the Bible mentions witchcraft and possession, as Alison points out. But Matt denies that those two things exist and dismisses them as ancient, outdated beliefs. You know that his denial is making Jacques absolutely giddy and that somewhere in Hell (or wherever he goes when he’s not inside Jean Paul’s body) he is sitting on his throne grinning from ear to ear and polishing his ring.

Jacques, upon hearing that Reverend Dawson doesn’t believe in possession.

In the temple, Raxl lays some Tarot cards onto the altar. I have no idea if these cards were deliberately chosen to predict future events on Maljardin or if Cosette Lee just drew ten random cards, but I like writing these Tarot analyses, so I’m going to assume it’s the former. First, a photo of the cards, cropped, lightened, sharpened, flipped to show from Raxl’s perspective, and with the card names marked:

Because both the King of Swords and the Queen of Cups appear twice, these cards must be from two decks combined. (Normally, there is only one of each card in a Tarot deck, but some people choose to use multiple decks when doing readings. That's what I gather from a Googling "using multiple decks in tarot," anyway.)

Using the meanings given to certain cards in previous episodes and the established interpretations on Tarot.com and The Tarot Guide for the others, here is my brief card-by-card interpretation:

Strikingly, two of these cards, the Ace of Swords and the World, have very positive meanings. The Ace of Swords can be about force (in the sense meaning power, not the sense of being forced to do things) or it can foretell a new beginning or the start of a new project, according to The Tarot Guide. The World denotes success and the fulfillment of dreams; some interpretations such as that on Tarot.com consider it to always be a positive card, even when reversed (although The Tarot Guide argues in favor of a negative interpretation of The World RX). The Tarot Guide says that the Four of Coins/Pentacles can mean "possessiveness,” but I'm thinking that it, if this spread of cards was intentional, Ian Martin may have meant for it to mean "possession" instead. I included both Elizabeth and Holly as posible Queens of Cups in my interpretation, because, although I am inclined to believe Raxl’s and Vangie’s interpretation of the Queen of Cups over Matt’s, either one may be correct.

When examined together, these cards suggest a “new beginning” for Jean Paul, Elizabeth and/or Holly, and Dan. Jacques will either possess them or have them become possessed, and this scheme of his will be a success. We know that Jacques foreshadows Elizabeth’s eventual possession (in his original outline for the plot) as early as Episode 12, and we also know from Episodes 6 and 19, respectively, that Dan and Holly both had counterparts on 17th century Maljardin. If Martin had been allowed to stick to his original outline, would Dan have ended up being possessed by d’Anton and Holly by the blonde girl in her dream? Was that his original intention?

But I digress. The Tarot is less significant to this scene than the fact that Raxl is trying to summon Vangie again to the island. Quito pounds on the ritual drum, Raxl prays in a trance while kneeling before the altar. Unbeknownst to them, the Reverend Matt Dawson sneaks into the temple to search for both the cyanide and Erica’s notes.

Raxl and Quito in the Temple of the Serpent.

Raxl: “COME, CONJURE WOMAN, TAKE YOUR PLACE ON THE ALTAR OF THE GREAT SERPENT...CONJURE WOMAN, TAKE WHAT STRENGTH IS LEFT FROM THE SOUL OF YOUR FATHER AND USE IT! USE HIS STRENGTH! USE HIM!”

Matt discovers that he’s not strong enough to force the door open and so gives up. “What doors are closed to me I suppose I have no right to open,” he tells Alison cryptically as the “sad Jean Paul” music plays in the background. (That’s what I call the cue at least, because it mostly plays during sad Jean Paul scenes.)

Raxl: “COME, CONJURE WOMAN!”

Vangie: “When I die, it will be here on Maljardin. Why did you call me?”

Vangie protests that “[she] must be brought [to Maljardin] some other way” instead of summoning, which is pretty pointless, because Raxl’s ability to summon her to Maljardin eliminates the need for an invite from Jean Paul or Jacques (or, in Holly’s case, skill with sneaking onto ships). She ends this episode with a cryptic line that could refer to one of several female characters on this show: “When the master of the house is no longer the master of his soul, the house needs a mistress."

Overall, a good but not very eventful episode--but then, at this point, you can’t really do much unless Jean Paul and Jacques are around to stir things up. They’re not the only interesting characters--I would be more than happy to watch this, too, if it were The Raxl Show--but Jean Paul and Jacques are the catalysts, the “movers and shakers” if you will. Fortunately, the handsome devil and his 20th-century descendant will be back next episode

Coming up next: Vangie tries to convince Jean Paul to bring her to Maljardin by boat and we try to determine if the Lost Episode summary for Episode 30 was truly for a lost episode.

{ <- Previous: Episode 28 || Next: Episode 30 -> }

Notes

[1] Steve (leafshimmer) sent me an article recently with behind-the-scenes information on the show, including the reason why Fox is absent from roughly one episode per week:

Last year [i. e. 1968], Fox broke his neck while taping the Stratford Festival company's Three Musketeers for CBC. Although he doesn't have to wear a neck brace all the time, he still suffers pain. "Most of the early problems were cleared up, but it's much too exhausting doing this--working 12 hours a day," he said. "My doctor has given me a letter which insists I get one working day off a week. I have less than 48 hours off, with rehearsals every night, including Sunday."

(Source: Sid Adilman, “TV’s Colin Fox and his Strange Paradise,” Toronto Telegram (Nov. 29 1969).)

#strange paradise #soap opera #ian martin #week 6 #episode 29 #review #analysis #foxless episodes #the not so hidden voodoo temple #scenery chewing #sign of the great serpent #sp and religion #speculation on ian martin's original story #tarot #youtube automatic captions

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