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lifesliced-a · 3 years

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i’m going to be talking more about ren and hina with their individual and combined experiences since japan’s laws on prostitution give some leeway to the sex industry as a whole. obviously the below content warnings are due to them being of a sexual nature, so discretion advised.

that being said, i’m aiming to take this from a respectful and technical approach to a character that lives a very different life than some of the other characters on this blog. also this is really, really long. i tried to do my research here as well as tie my character into all that research.

HOST STUFF / REN’S MANAGEMENT OF THE CLUB:

hina and ren have a small age difference of just a year, both having gotten into the industry at a young age ( both 18 ) .

as a host, ren is pretty strict in the day-to-day about hosting. it is exactly as it seems: he hosts and he manages the club.

it’s smoke and mirrors basically, catering to having drinks, flirting with customers, and basically entertaining them. a host can touch the patron, but usually not the other way around. ren is a little less strict to this in his own management of shining!, so long as it falls under the guise of socially appropriate ( returning a gesture from a host for instance, or a hand on the shoulder ) .

hosts are allowed to give their numbers and often take their clients on dates, which in turn leads them back to the host club to make more money. the goal is to keep revenue coming in. shining! is aimed to the ‘classic’ experience, what many would think of in reference to ouran aesthetically speaking ( and not much else ) . as much as i keep ren at a dissonance from that show overall so as to not be confused, the idea of shining! started as a tourist attraction / pop-up. it no doubt drew that crowd in, and quite purposefully given that foreigners and locals alike were apt to visit. it was a pop-up for a few years before having permanent residence in the red-light district. it’s supposed to be a diamond in the rough; a place for affordable class.

ren was part of the original set of boys hosting for the ‘pre-shining!’ days, and is the last out of them to have not moved to another club / part of the industry. he was chosen just before he turned 19, having worked at another smaller club before he was scooped up.

WHO RUNS SHINING! BEHIND THE SCENES?

his name is ishikawa goro ( though ren doubts this to be his real name ), and is a member of the yakuza, utilizing shining! for purposes mostly beneath ren’s nose. he started the pop up, he hired ren, and he got the business off the ground while entrusting ren to manage it. ren was known as umi then. goro was the one that suggested he go by ren, finding it fitting for him.

he has been involved in ren’s life for almost ten years based on where ren’s primary verse picks up, and has basically been a formative figure in ren’s life where one was lacking. there is no sexual element to their relationship, though ren had a slight affection for him at first that was quickly realized to be a more fondness.

goro’s appearance changes often, mostly his hair color. he goes from natural black through shades of brown and blond often, wanting to keep himself from being noticed too often. he acts as a part of the underground.

he comes off pretty cool, collected, and in control. he has all the chips in favor, the deck is stacked, the game is rigged. he tends to give the illusion that power is shared, or that he’s out for everyone’s best interest, but he typically has his own interests at heart. he will do whatever fits agenda. if helping benefits him, he’ll help. if not, he typically won’t intervene. he finds reasons to do things that might not directly benefit him, but those are solely motivated by personal interest. he has a soft spot for children, and tends to be aggressive with offenders that are dangerous to children. this is ren’s best selling point honestly.

WHAT DID REN DO BEFORE THERE WAS A PERMANENT LOCATION / DURING OFF-SEASONS?

when the club wasn’t completely profitable as a full-time position, ren definitely learned early to work around the law. japan’s prostitution laws allow for a lot of loopholes --> read about japan’s laws on prostitution and what sex workers do / where they work to get around these laws.

>>>> “ Prostitution in modern Japan, as defined under Japanese law, is the illegal practice of sexual intercourse with an 'unspecified' (unacquainted) person in exchange for monetary compensation,[1][2][3] which was criminalized in 1965 by the introduction of article 3 of the Anti-Prostitution Law (売春防止法, Baishun Bōshi Hō). ” <<<<

this leaves the door open to other acts that sex workers can engage in outside of ‘sexual intercourse with an unspecified person’. that basically means they can’t engage in traditional sex with strangers for money, but could have paid sex with an acquaintance. this does not mean they cannot perform oral sex and other sex acts that are non-coital are permitted to be paid for by unspecified persons. there is a term for the industry that i’ve come to understand is like an overlaying term for many different places with different business called ‘health’.

in ren’s case, he’s used this as a strong argument for having paid sex with clients as they are ‘in his realm of acquaintances’. he meets his private connections via the locations he’s worked at, primarily shining!.

ren kept a small string of locals that came to the pop-up location in his black book to keep a small revenue coming in from 19-21. shining! is a running business with four walls by the time he’s 22, to which these connections grows, and he becomes busier ‘moonlight’. however, from 18-21, he did work at a few other locations to supplement cashflow. he has also temporarily returned to some of these gigs shortly after kyosuke was born, and during his transition between apartments ( to which he is currently living at 27 ) .

ren’s options, in comparison to hina’s, are a bit more limited in being hired in what one could consider a “legal establishment”. a lot of his work is reliant on his customer base from shining! and other connections. so when he wasn’t working at shining! or meeting with regulars off the clock ( or ‘friends of’ his regulars ) , he acted as a male equivalent of what’s called ‘delivery health’ which is basically a type of call girl. ironically this is what ren transitions to full-time after leaving shining!, having built up a solid customer base as he follows his former #2 host**

** this host, sho, is a major connection in ren’s life. ren hired sho at shining! to be the genki type. despite their initial differences, rne and sho realized quickly their opposing appearances and personalities could make them more money together than apart. they’ll host together or bounce off each other ( “see how mean ren is to me!” or “see how difficult sho makes my job” to play sympathy ) , which quickly moved to them hosting after hours together. individually they do well, but together there is more profit. they also have an affair together on and off. **

SO WHERE DOES HINA FIT INTO THIS? SHE’S A HOSTESS, RIGHT?

she is! hina met ren when the club was a pop-up, coming to be hosted after constantly having to host. ren understands, as he’s done the same. their connection was pretty quick.

before hosting, hina’s first job as a sex worker was as an onakura, and she did that for six months while trying to work a few part-time jobs. finding herself, similarly to ren, unable to rise above her circumstances, she quickly quit that to pursue more money.

for a short period she worked as a call girl, but eventually found hosting to be her saving grace while still remaining in the industry. she was given the opportunity by a friend who was a hostess at the time, and had suggested she apply. cleaning herself up, hina excelled quickly, and is quite good at her job.

where she used to moonlight for $$$, she now gaslights ren for cash due to their connection as mother / father to their son. he always obliges. there is love in that love-hate.

ADDITIONAL DETAILS:

how it all boils down --> both hina and ren are essentially sex workers, though ren is more into the realm of prostitution than hina is. he is the primary caretaker for their son, and his mother, and thus his financial burden is far greater.

a big reason he leaves his manager position is because a) it’s not going anywhere and b) he can’t let sho leave without him. now that he has a clientele that’s more than several individuals, he can work effectively as a “man on call” and get a larger pool from there. his services are more open, more direct, and not under the guise of ‘hosting’ anymore. they still fall into being advertised within the legal confines, but he’s still in the red light district: at the end of the day, ren is ( and has always been ) a prostitute. there’s nothing wrong with that, and in reality he really is the one that has the hardest time coming to terms with the technically terms for his career. he’s only doing what’s been the oldest profession in the book, and he’s filling a niche that’s more saturated by men wanting women and not women wanting men ( or men wanting men ) .

over time, ren has definitely acted outside of the law, but he mostly does what he can to stay within the legalities forced on him. the reason ren got into this wasn’t originally to go full-in, more needing some quick cash after he had to drop out of university and take care of his mom. from there, it sort of just spiraled, and he was in situations he was either too young or naive to understand, or was just making bad decisions. by the time he met hina and got her pregnant, there was no way ren was going to get out.

he traditionally hosts women more than men, though he sleeps with men and women rather equally with men being a slightly larger margin. there is a stigma of gay men living openly, and he provides comfort as a temporary lover. they can pretend he is their own / their boyfriend for a night.

while most of his female and male partners, for their own reasons, seek him for comfort and sex, others have been more violent. it’s no shock or secret that, especially acting independently without shining! to back him, ren has found himself in trouble, or just some extreme sexual situations.

he’s been hit and choked, which is not uncommon, to full on beaten up. he takes it as some clients just like it rough, and he’s there to provide them whatever kink they pay him to indulge. his motto is: i like what you like. a husband has walked in on him, but didn’t seem surprised. he’s been with couples, has been passed around, and basically is keen to do whatever he has to leave the situation still able to go to the work the next day as ren / come home at night as yori ( kyosuke’s father ) .

** at some point during their time together at shining! through their time post-shining! that ren pursues some cam-work with sho. he usually is masked as they do ‘live-streams’ where they perform with / on each other at the discretion of the chat. this is an on again / off again type of deal, though they typically do well, and get a good portion of views from westerners **

#( ⤷ PLAYER ) ◜ REN #( ⤷ ) ◜ HINA #( ⤷ ) ◜ HEADCANONS #so this is more for background #and for me to have reference but #i wanted to kind of do a deep dive on this #and i did a lot of research along the way #but as i warned at the top #there's a lot of talk about sex work beneath the cut

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lily-of-the-eyrie · 4 years

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🎓🔍 Scene Commentary: Colonel Edition ①

Welcome to the first in a series of posts about taking a closer look at the Colonel’s scenes, in which I’ll be analyzing all the sections in which he appeared to:

get a clearer idea of his character, and

maybe squeeze just a liiittle more content for HCs etc.

For this post, I’ll be doing Sequence 3-1 “The Color of Right”. As you can expect from the Colonel’s first appearance, this scene’s straight up packed with key details about his character—I’m talking mannerisms, value systems, ideals, and more.

Highlights! 　❗️The Colonel’s Negotiation Skills 　❗️The Colonel & Templar Beliefs

I’m essentially writing out my thoughts on what’s happening on screen as they go, so I highly recommend keeping a Rogue playthrough open in another tab for maximum clarity.

🌟 Thanks to the-colonel-who-cares for assisting with the beta reading!

This post has a lot of text and a lot of screenshots, so the rest of it goes under the cut.

[SQ3-1] The Color of Right

— Part I: First Meeting — Shay took down the gang members in the Greenwich HQ, and met the Colonel for the first time.

　The scene opens with Prosperity and Decay, an ominous and rather foreboding track which does a great job at underlining this scene's uneasy calm and tense undercurrent. Although Shay's opinion of the Colonel, whom he just met, did get better towards the end of the segment, at the beginning he's still very much unsure of what to make of the man.

　We start with Shay feeling alert and suspicious: upon noticing the Colonel, he narrows his eyes at him and his hand goes straight to his pistol. It's pretty clear at this point that he's not going to be instantly cooperative.

　Now the first thing the Colonel does to deal with this is raise his hands, which, together with his telling Shay to be at ease, and that they're friends (promptly name-dropping the Finnegans to make sure that his point gets through quickly), says something very, very clearly―"I'm NOT your enemy". Then, and only then, does he introduce himself.

　The Colonel follows up by thanking Shay for taking down the criminals, but Shay's first and almost reflexive response to this show of gratitude is, surprisingly, contempt. He combatively, condescendingly questions the sincerity of the Colonel's concern. Watch his tone and body language as he spits on the very idea that the Colonel could even actually feel anything about the city and its people. The way he blinks and throws out his arms questioningly before saying "What do you care?", and the contemptuous tone with which he says that line, is absolutely dripping with poison.

　And in this moment, we catch a glimpse of Shay’s infamous troublemaker side. Here he is, raring to go—a commoner challenging not just any redcoat, but a goddamn British military officer right in his face. This is the Shay that gets into bar brawls, the one who can't stay out of fights for long; this is the Shay who has zero innate respect for authority, and this is the Shay who can and will fearlessly call bullshit on anybody, even his "social betters", if he thinks they deserve it.

　Now to be fair to Shay, he’s not just looking for trouble out of boredom. We know there’s no love lost between him and the redcoats, judging by how he treats them from the very first scene. They were his enemies, plain and simple.

　However, in the wider scope of things, his behaviour isn’t anything particularly unusual—historically speaking, during the period Rogue is set in, there's a lot of tension going on between the Irish and the British, since the latter is pretty much on an all-out bender to subjugate the former. Needless to say, this creates a lot of bad blood between the two sides, so Shay’s reaction, while quite aggressive, isn’t really out of place considering the social mood of the time.

　But one thing is clear―Shay is straight up looking for a fight, and he was no pushover; he's totally ready to back up his fighting words with an actual fight. He would have no qualms (and might even rather enjoy) socking a redcoat in the face...or worse. Their shared acquaintance of the Finnegans is probably the only thing that reined him in for now, and had that the risk of causing his caretakers further trouble not been on his mind (he certainly seemed to have momentarily forgotten it when he taunted the Colonel). Hell, he might've even thought of roughing him up. I mean, he's a trained Assassin―he's got good reason to believe that he could 100% beat the stuffing out of this guy AND escape afterwards.

　Now watch the Colonel totally avoid falling in line with Shay's predictions by simply not fighting back. Normally, you'd expect any other redcoat, common soldier or otherwise, to whack Shay right across the face to teach the rude, uppity brat a lesson. And he’d have a pretty strong case in his defense too, since it was undeniably Shay who "started it".

　But here's the point: the Colonel isn't just any other redcoat. Not only did he accept Shay's pointed accusation (which would've been doubly hurtful if he did truly care about the townspeople), he did so with grace; you don't see him squirm, you don't see him trying to deny or make excuses for his colleagues' behaviour. Neither did he get defensive and try to justify their wrongs. "Not getting reactive" seems like a simple action, but it suggests the presence of a significant amount of self-control―and, in extension, control over the situation. He didn't get angry, or violent, or emotional, which would surely have led to a confrontation where everything spins out of control and would surely end with one of them bleeding out on the ground; instead, he was able to keep Shay talking, and also gain a foothold in the argument by introducing the idea, the possibility, to Shay that whatever "the redcoats" had done, this redcoat in front of him intends to do differently.

　Of course, Shay's not stupid or gullible, so he doesn't immediately trust this weird fellow who had not only completely circumvented his open invitation to a fisticuff, but also actually continued to try converse with him to boot. As far as he's concerned, the logic of "redcoats=bad people=enemies", an observation doubtless fed by years of experience that agreed with that statement, still held strong. Even so, the Colonel managed to get Shay, who is suspicious as heck and obviously not a big fan of anyone with his profession, to at least let him try to prove himself different.

　Okay, now let's take a look at the Colonel's side of the conversation, which plays like a masterclass in conflict resolution. After explaining who he was to take the edge off Shay's defensive stance, and taking the brunt of Shay's scorn head on afterwards, we see him accepting the fact that yes, a lot of his comrades have indeed "been less than helpful", and it can't be helped that Shay feels animosity towards him.

　Now look at his body language here―he averts his eyes when speaking of his less compassionate colleagues, and his talking speed noticeably drops, like he's looking for the right words to say. Shit, I'd even go as far as saying he looks visibly sad about this―watch his eyes, the crease in his eyebrows. But far from being a sign of refusing to look at the unfortunate truth, this comes across as a very empathetic gesture―it's less "yeah, I guess so...I guess //shrug" and more of a "yeah, I know―what a shame, isn't it?" The slight, almost imperceptible nod at the end of it just seals the deal―this is the Colonel telling Shay that he isn't about to run away from the charges Shay had brought up against him.

　But he wasn't just going to take it all sitting down, and not do anything about this injustice whose existence he just told Shay he's well aware of―he will, he tells Shay, take a different approach. If his comrades are going to abuse their authority and mistreat the common people, he claims, then he won't do the same thing. Now clearly this isn't something Shay hears very often, much less think possible, so naturally he's rather suspicious of the Colonel's intentions. His first instinct would've been that if this guy isn't in it as a "landlord", oppressing the townsfolk for his own gains, then well, he's probably after something else just as selfish. So this is where the Colonel's words again pulled the rug right out from under his feet, because, going entirely in the opposite direction, the object of his suspicion instead said the most selfless thing―that he cared for the welfare of the citizens.

　Okay, here comes the most important line in the Colonel's primary characterization. Questioned on his motivations by Shay, who doubtless wondered why the Colonel would take the trouble of going against the party line (a thing that Shay, who freshly broke away from his Brotherhood doing just that, may even have a personal interest in knowing), he answered:

"I care."

　First, let's talk about the delivery of this line (or, well, phrase) itself. It's short, it's sweet, it gets straight to the point―in two words, the Colonel posits that he does what he does out of a highly personal sense of duty to look after the people, plain and simple. It's only after a pause to let this sink in that he elaborates on the statement by saying he wants safety and prosperity for New York's citizens, but even then it's all very bare-bones, and its straightforwardness is supported by his tone, which sounds like the very embodiment of someone saying something just like that―no stumbling, no doubt, no hesitation. With no flourish to it, it doesn't look like he's trying to make a show of flexing his moral muscles here, either. He answered Shay's grilling with an answer that rings like a simple truth, and that gives the line the impact it needed to make an impression on the still suspicious Shay.

　Now let's look at the gestures: speaking of his wishes for New York's welfare, he throws his gaze down the street and lightly spreads his arms, motioning to the city as a whole. That, and his following expression, gives him a very vulnerable air. He'd stated his thoughts on the issue, and laid them out for Shay to judge. These are the actions of a man who has nothing to hide, and the effect is instantaneous―Shay still hasn't been completely won over, but there's a considerable drop in the combativeness of his behaviour from that point onwards, and he's now more open to the idea of keeping up a conversation with the Colonel.

　With Shay still skeptical but more importantly somewhat calmed down, the Colonel now has a fighting chance in trying to get Shay to at least allow him the opportunity of proving his sincerity.

❗️The Colonel’s Negotiation Skills

　 The Colonel’s methods here reminded me of crisis/hostage negotiation techniques, which generally places a huge emphasis on staying calm, building rapport with an uncooperative/emotionally wrought individual, and working on convincing the other guy that they can trust you enough to help them resolve the situation in a less destructive way. Of course, their first encounter is more of a standard argument between two parties who are supposed to have a lot of mutual antagonism than a hostage situation, but I did find it interesting that one key phrase that comes up a lot in the context of such negotiations is that the ideal resolution to the conflict is gaining what they call “voluntary compliance”—that is, getting someone to do what you want them to do without forcing them into it—from the target. I’m sure the Colonel most likely didn’t have any formal training in that craft, but the idea that you can actually codify what you need to do to win someone’s trust does add a more sinister sheen to his intentions.

　On my end, I think the Colonel’s being honest with a lot of things here, and professional negotiators do tend to stress that their techniques need some actual sympathy from their end in order to work at all, but for people who want to write an unapologetically manipulative Colonel, I think it’s a interesting topic to look into.

― Part II: Freedom From Want ―

　The Colonel attempts to prove his "noble words" immediately by putting them into practice, and instructs Shay to use the gang's stolen funds to renovate an old church in the city.

　The Colonel says what's on Shay's mind, impressing upon the still wary man that he understands what going through his mind―that Shay has no reason to trust him yet. Shay's reply this time is decidedly tame; he's no longer spitting bile by default. Instead, he now asks for more elaboration on the common ground the Colonel introduced earlier: their shared friendship with the Finnegans, whom we know Shay thinks of dearly.

　The Colonel states that his relationship with the Finnegans is tied to the fact that their late son was a subordinate of his. He further extends the common ground by saying that Shay's "much like him", drawing a straight parallel between the two men. Now, you don't make a comment like that unless you expect the other guy to ask why you said that, which is exactly what Shay does next. This can be a normal conversation...or it could be the Colonel deliberately reeling Shay further into that common ground to build a connection. Is this just friendly talk that naturally evolved from Shay's question about the Finnegans? Or is it a calculated move by the Colonel to draw Shay into trusting him more? Or is the Colonel honestly reminiscing about the past, slightly shaken after being caught totally unaware by the fact that the Finnegans had decided to give Shay his late protégé's robes? You decide ;^)

　The Colonel then elaborates on the late Finnegan Jr, painting the picture of a saint―a young man who had cared about the townsfolk, who had wanted to "do good by the people", and wanted to make the world a better place. Now all these are good things, and only it would take quite a disagreeable personality to shit on that at this point. But this isn't just about Finnegan Jr.; by stating outright that all this was a dream both Finnegan Jr. and himself shared, intentionally or not, he's essentially also painting himself in the same light. He might’ve planned that, or he might not, but Shay would likely feel that the Colonel’s a more agreeable person given that he shows great appreciation for the charitable spirit of people like Finnegan Jr.

　Next, here comes the Freedom of Want line. It's really important, so I'll tack the whole thing here:

"Mere survival is not enough. Full bellies, warm clothing... Freedom from want is the greatest freedom of all."

　There are two things I want to talk about when it comes to this line. The first is the nature of benevolence in these lines, and the target of that benevolence. Now, the Colonel made it absolutely clear from the get-go that he isn't concerned only for the wellbeing of what we might call the “important people” (a.k.a. the higher social class, the “somebodies” of society), but all the citizens of the city―this includes the absolute poorest members of the society, who would most likely long for this "freedom from want". Speaking of that freedom from want, how did he define it? He outlines it as having "full bellies, warm clothing"―he's talking about the right to a comfortable life, to the basics of not just barely surviving, but of a life worth living on a physical, biological level. Now this is important because, aside from having a very humanitarian angle to it, it will strike Shay in a raw spot―Shay, who spent his childhood in a harsh environment, who's got a lot of brushes with poverty, reeling from one tavern to the next, feeling like he was never taken care of by anyone. And it's a strong callback to Shay's first accusation to the Colonel―that he was no different from a landlord wringing his poor tenants dry while said tenants are breaking their backs trying to earn just enough to not die of hunger in the streets.

　The second thing is, of course, the obvious jab at the Assassins―I don't think anyone would deny that the Colonel is a Templar through and through, and, looking for all the world like he'd known and fought Assassins for a long time, he likely already knows their arguments about the concept of freedom by heart. Given that he's likely very much aware of the importance of the word "freedom" to the Assassins, and also that he knows that Shay's one of them, it's highly possible that the Colonel picked his words very deliberately for this line. But I would argue that it's not malicious; I don't think he's sassing the Assassins' ideals here, because he never seems to be the kind of man who indulges in petty sarcasm like that (although whatever he thinks the Assassin brand of freedom is, he very likely disagrees with it, or at least figured the Templar take on it is preferable). What I'd say he's trying to do here is introducing a different sort of freedom―one that he hopes Shay could get behind.

[PS. On a side note, “freedom from want” is recognizably one of the Four Freedoms, which can be rephrased as a “right to an adequate standard of living”. I wonder if it’s a reference... In any case, I just want to say that trying to figure out why this seems to be a topic of personal importance to the Colonel is a great way to start working on his backstory.]

　Shay's sarcastic side then comes out again as he prods the Colonel about his goodwill. On one hand, it's just Shay being Shay―giving people playful grief is just a part of his personality. Under the surface though, we see him buying more and more into the idea presented by the Colonel: when they first talked, Shay ridiculed that very same goodwill, acting as if it's only common sense that it doesn't really exist, but at this point he's like, hey, idk, maybe it could be real this time? You can see him get more comfortable around the Colonel; whatever techniques the Colonel's employing to get on Shay’s good side, it's clearly working.

　Now let's see how the Colonel takes issue with Shay's idea that the relationship between the Colonel and the citizens is that of the governor and the governed. One interesting point here is that Shay is still talking to the Colonel like he's "the British Government", not an individual in his own right. Shay is still subconsciously conflating the Colonel's actions with his party's actions, and this is where it gets very interesting―the Colonel staunchly, flatly, even snappily, denies that claim.

　The Colonel is, generally, a very calm speaker―his tone is very stable, and he talks in a very measured manner. This makes any sudden rise in his voice very noticeable. Listen to the way he says that line:

　"I do not govern, Master Cormac. I merely assist."

　He's clearly put off by Shay's words; compared to his previous line, there's an obvious change in volume and force in his denial, and his voice only returns to normal at the back half of that line. Now I don't know about you, but the speed at which he shot back makes that part sound...unscripted. That's either top-grade acting, or the Colonel’s instinctive response to Shay stepping on his tail.

　As for why this caught my eye, I think it's interesting on two levels―on a personal level as a hint to what the Colonel thinks of his own role in society, and on a grander level as a reference to the position of the Templar Order in the world as an organization.

　Starting with the first one, if the Colonel did in fact shoot this line back reflexively, that's a huge hint to his personality. It's interesting because it's a rejection―he claims to not be a "governor", someone who rules over others and calls the shots only expecting his subjects to obey, but an "assistant", who is here to help others along. By the way he said this line, he might have even viewed this distinction with pride.

　On the greater scale, this line can also take on a shady note to it because "assisting, not governing" is very much in line with the Templar Order's overarching strategy ever since the time of the Borgias (AC:Revelations’s Abstergo Files are a good read for more on this).

　As such, there's a lot of complexity in how we can interpret this bit. Is the Colonel just calling back to his party stance? Or is he, through the actions he carries out, trying to write his own version of how to execute this Templar strategy, in direct opposition to how most of his other comrades (read: ye standard-issue villainous Templar) interpret it? Does he take this line to mean really "helping people out and guiding them to greatness", not just "manipulating them like pawns as part of your personal agenda"? The striking difference here, and whether one believes the gap exists or not, is pretty much what sets him apart from the generic Templar.

　Next, they arrive at the dilapidated church. Watch his phrasing here:

　”We can make it better."

　See how quickly he reels Shay in as part of the team, not an outsider. It might feel a bit sudden given they literally just met, but it’s definitely a good line for building camaraderie—it’s the Colonel quietly stressing that they’re on the same side now.

　He also mentions that urban renewal is “a new science that had already proven effective on the Continent". In addition to showing that he takes the Templars’ focus on being people of science and technological advancement seriously, this bit also gives us a look at his other interests outside his immediate occupation. And from the look of it, it's not the first time he's renovated a building; arranging for resources means that he had to organize the logistics at some prior point, and these materials needed to be sourced, paid for, transported―if you want to get really grounded, this isn't something that easily just happens without a lot of paperwork. Had he built an existing logistics network for this?

　Having fixed the church, he suddenly brings up the topic of watching over New York. Judging by Shay’s outburst of anger towards the “landlords” mismanaging the area earlier in the scene, the Colonel can probably make a educated guess that this responsibility’s something that will resonate with the man at this point.

　He ends their meeting by saying, “after all, a man needs purpose". Now, everybody knows "purpose" is an extremely important keyword in Templar ideology, so I doubt he used this word on a whim here. He's obviously trying to give Shay a sense of direction―a direction that, unsurprisingly, lines up with the Colonel's interpretation of Templar ideology.

❗️The Colonel & Templar Beliefs

　Despite its shortness, this scene does a great job at encapsulating a lot of things about the Colonel’s personality, and his particular idea of what his Order’s beliefs stand for, ie.-”doing good by the people”.

　As in any other belief system, the “true meaning” of the Order’s philosophy is likely something hotly debated among the Templars themselves, much like how various Assassins have incongruous ideas of how their Creed should be put into action (Mackandal v. Ah Tabai, Bellec v. Arno, etc. etc.). Given that the Templars are supposed to play the antagonist in the Ass Creed series, their ideology’s unethical applications inevitably tend to take center stage whenever they get mentioned, but the presence of Templars like the Colonel who register as “good” does bring up the fascinating topic of what Templar ideology looks like when exercised in a righteous way. That said, the Colonel seems to have a strong attachment to the concept of being a charitable Templar, which begs a lot of questions—how does he feel about his less-than-helpful comrades in the Order? The British Rite under Birch, or even the Templar Order in general, likely has a great proportion of dodgy figures in it—how does he deal with having to work with them? Assuming he’s not the only member of the Order who believes that a Templar has the responsibility of executing their ideology in a morally upright way, could there be factions within the Rite that are at odds with each other’s take on their shared belief system? All this would make the British Rite’s internal politics incredibly interesting to think about.

🤔 Extra: Chapter Questions

Okay, now that we’ve reached the end of the sequence, there are several unanswered questions that presumably had crossed the viewer’s mind at some point:

Q1. Why did the Colonel even let Shay live? What’s his game plan? Q2. How much did the Colonel know about Shay's personality/background? Q3. How much of this encounter is staged?

Since these questions need the whole of his cutscene discography to answer properly, I’ll do them in a later post, but they are intriguing Qs to keep in mind as we go! :^D

#⟪Monrology 🎓⟫#⟪Headcanon Hour 💭⟫#⟪✠ Honour and Loyalty ✠⟫#⟪Cutscene Commentary series⟫#I feel that there aren't enough long-ass reads on Monrology and I plan to help rectify this #I've been planning to do this for a very long time but hhhhh what is editing #but yes I want to hear YOUR thoughts on these scenes too #and if you feel like taking a shot at the Chapter Questions right away well #I'm listening 👀👂#Rogue may be short but nhh there are so many scenes that lend well to in-depth analyses and we might as well capitalize on that

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stratharchives · 4 years

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The experience of women students at the University of Strathclyde: Beauty Standards

Niamh Cannon is back with her second guest blogpost in a series exploring the experience of women students at the University of Strathclyde predecessor institution, the Royal Technical College. Find out more about her research in her fantastic source guide, covering the topic in more detail.

(OJD/1/1, Jan 1910, p103)

In this post I will be looking at how beauty standards were portrayed throughout the student magazines, whether this be through short stories and fables or explicit discussions about what was expected from women in terms of appearance and manner.

When reading through the magazines I was not specifically looking out for themes of beauty standards for women, though they presented themselves regularly enough to grab my attention. In the early editions of the magazines, that did not include the Ladies’ Page to speak for the women, the most noticeable representation of how women should look is through short stories written by male authors. In short romance stories about falling in love at first sight, lots of emphasis is put on ‘kind eyes and smiles’. This links in with Rachael Alexander’s observations about beauty standards in the early twentieth century; she writes that ‘facial beauty was associated so closely with spiritual beauty or a goodness of character.’[1] This goodness or innocence translated through facial beauty is apparent in a short story called ‘The Warning Voice’ in the December edition of the Royal Technical College Magazine, 1912. The protagonist is describing a vision of who seems to be his lost love,

‘Her floss silk hair fell in ample waves across her brows, her eyes were very large and of a deep blue, half hidden by long, dark lashes. Her face had the clear sweetness and soft delicate outlines of a child’s.’[2]

There are two things of particular interest to note here: first that the we can most likely assume that the woman in question is Caucasian, by the note of her big blue eyes; and secondly, that the allusion to this woman as being almost child-like or baby-faced in her features is worth exploring further. Geoffrey Jones states that throughout the 20th century, ‘the dominant discourse of ideal female beauty… was Caucasian.’[3] and this short story supports Jones’ point. In regard to childlike features, Caroline Keating writes that, ‘immature characteristics generally elicit caretaking and cooperative responses, and stem aggressive/competitive responses, perhaps human female mimicry of childlike characteristics serves this social purpose.’[4] The ideal of the woman-child appearance described in this short story can be seen as a reflection of these gendered relationships during this period: that a man is the protector over the innocent female.

In another edition of the magazine I came across an interesting exchange in the correspondence section of the issue. This section is where students would seek answers to their questions or problems that would be published in each issue. This particular answer was in reply to a problem put forward by ‘Distressed Maiden’ regarding problems with her weight. The reply was as follows:

‘We are indeed sorry for you… Your desire to overcome such obesity is a laudable one… you are in duty bound to endeavour to reduce your corpulence. We would not advise your continuing taking a bottle of vinegar to every meal.’[5]

What is interesting about this advice to the ‘Distressed Maiden’ is also a point that Alexander brings up in her article on beauty standards in the early twentieth century. She writes that in women’s magazines ‘The concept of self-improvement… permeates all aspects’ of the ideal of beauty. The advice given by the magazine committee echoes the ideology, that it is her ‘duty’ as a woman to reduce her body weight as she is currently existing outwith appropriate ideals of femininity. If a woman’s appearance and body is her primary characteristic, she is bound by societal standards to keep it in check with what is deemed acceptable.

The final example I will look at is from a later edition of the Royal Technical College Magazine and takes form of a limerick under the section ‘Here and There’, where poems and fables were usually published. This limerick talks of a young chemist student spying a pretty young woman in the hallway and passing her by. He writes:

‘To make-up so convincing, no-defect/ This girl now doth like a canvas show/ The colours of a sunset, crimson glow,/ Cheek, lips, hair and lashes lie/ Covered by skilful travesty,/ Pseudo coloured, with face cream below.’[6]

From this description it is clear that the young lady is wearing a lot of makeup. It seems that the chemistry student is admiring but there is also a subtle mocking tone. Alexander states that attitudes to makeup during this period of the twentieth century were mixed. If beauty was supposed to reflect the internal goodness and innocence of a woman, then makeup ‘presented a moral dilemma’. Makeup in middle class culture represented ‘mistrust’ and ‘deep-seated fear’ to many because it had a mask or disguise effect which reflected a lack of morality. At the end of the limerick, the chemist speaks of how he squeezes past the young woman in the corridor ‘And is using petrol on his lab coat still’[7] , unable to get rid of the stains her makeup left. This jokey twist at the end of the poem also highlights how the makeup on this woman has undesirable effects- the staining of his lab coat is going against the ideal that women should clean and care for men, not create mess.

It appears that beauty standards and particularly makeup were a primary characteristic of women’s experience during this period and a topic of comment. It is interesting that women seem to have been held to quite high and specific beauty standards, but the use of makeup was generally frowned upon. It would certainly be interesting to uncover a woman’s perspective on beauty and makeup at this time, as the examples in the magazine are mainly given through the male gaze. Nonetheless, this narrative illustrates that women in the early 20th century were first and foremost judged by their appearance, their character and intelligence being secondary to this.

-----------

[1] Rachael Alexander, ‘Consuming Beauty: Mass-market magazines and make-up in the 1920s’, IJAS Online, 4, (2015), 3-14 (p.5)

[2] The Royal Technical College Magazine, December 1923, vol.V- no.3, p.70

[3] Geoffrey Jones, ‘Blonde and Blue-Eyes? Globalizing Beauty, c.1945-C.1980’, The Economic History Review, 61:1, (2008), 125-154 (p.132)

[4] Caroline F. Keating, ‘Gender and the Physiognomy of Dominance and Attractiveness’, Social Psychology Quarterly, 48: 1, 1985, 61–70, (p.63)

[5] The Royal Technical College Magazine, November 1908, vol.1- no.2, p.50

[6] The Mask: Organ of the Students of the Royal Technical College, February 1930, vol.XIV- no.5, p.134

[7] Ibid.

#Archives #archives and special collections #20th century #student placement #women #university archives #each for equal #students #women at the University

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batfamquotes · 5 years

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LMAO I forgot there are people who don’t know that talia al-ghul had sex with jason todd

that’s like people not knowing nightwing once kissed catwoman

this came up because https://shewhotellsstories.tumblr.com reblogged this

https://incorrectbatfamiliaquotes.tumblr.com/post/180702420910/jason-todd-i-hadnt-felt-that-messed-up-mentally

and their tags were basically asking did talia commit a statutory rape upon jason

and I realized wow people really don’t know that story and have zero context.

so I want to clarify just what happened between talia and jason

for the record, I’m not justifying what happens, I’m just explaining the events as they occurred.

(warning: this gets long)

SO!

in red hood the lost days we’re shown what jason todd was doing in between getting resurrected, crawling out of his grave, and terrorizing batman when he comes back to gotham as red hood.

where was he?

with talia al-ghul

what was he doing?

getting training from the best teachers she picked out for him

and then killing the ones who turned out to be morally corrupt.

after crawling out of his grave, jason spent 5 months wandering around, then hospitalized, then back to wandering the streets before the al-ghuls found him and brought him to one of their compounds

then after a year of trying and failing to figure out how he came back from the dead, ra’s deemed jason a lost cause. jason had shown that he was a master combatant but he wasn’t all there, not mentally. now this could be because of the obvious trauma he’d been through, and an effect of being resurrected & being described as half dead. it’s very possible he had brain damage, and probably never would have recovered completely or maybe he would have, over a period of several years.

but talia didn’t have that option. ra’s forbid her to tell batman that his son was in her care and custody. and he decided that jason would leave them and be cared for in secret, since in his eyes he wasn’t improving.

so talia sped up the process. she shoved jason into her father’s lazarus pit, gave him a survival kit, and helped him escape the al-ghul compound.

why? why do all this? well it’s implied that talia hoped to restore jason to the boy he once was, then she’d return him to batman who would be grateful in kind and love talia back.

but it’s pointed out that the chances of that happening aren’t high, and that the longer talia kept jason from bruce, the more likely it would be that bruce would be angry with her for keeping his son from him and not letting him know jason was alive.

after the dip in the lazarus pit, jason’s mental faculties are back to working order, and the pits healing factor works on his body as well, giving him a very late growth spurt.

it’s believed the lazarus pit made jason go “crazy” when he went on his vengeance driven kill spree but all it did for him mentally was undo his brain damage, throughout lost days and under the red hood jason’s got a clear moral stance and is driven by anger. yes he’s violent, but he’s coherent.

after reconnecting with talia, jason tells her he wants to kill batman for not avenging him and asks for her help, which she gives, while also stalling him by insisting he gain training in a variety of fields.

which he does. he’s an incredibly fast learner.

during that time, talia helps jason financially, paying for his livelihood and his teachers that she picks out for him

as his goals change, during the story he meets with talia on several occasions, telling her of his progress and plans. she’s a major part of his life, but he’s left to his own devices.

at the end of the series, talia tells jason that her father is dead by batman’s hand, and encourages him to gain vengeance on bruce, for slights made against him and her.

she then pulls jason towards her, and kisses him. he kisses her back, they fall to the bed, making out, and they have sex.

since up until that point jason had been focusing on training, and no mention of any love interests are made, there’s no reason to think he would have had penetrative sex before this, so it’s pretty clear that talia takes jason’s virginity. and yes, virginity is a social construct but for the narrative’s sake let’s call it what it is.

now, when jason comes back from the dead, it’s 6 months after he’s been buried.

at that point, jason was 15

in red hood the lost days it’s clear that a couple years pass between talia helping jason escape, his training, and the time they have sex.

so the timeline is, 15-16, being taken care of by talia, going on the run, deciding to murder batman

16-17, training from different teachers, learning new skills batman hadn’t taught him

18, giving up on murdering batman, and choosing to enact revenge instead, then talia takes his virginity

(for reference, he’s two years older than tim drake who was 16 when jason came back to gotham in under the red hood, so at the end of lost days jason is 18)

here is jason with talia in issue 1

look at how small and tiny he is. just like the malnourished robin he once was. he’s 15 at this point.

this is them in issue 2

he’s clearly older here, but not by much, he’s at least 16.

and here they are in issue 3, you can see jason’s aging, he’s either still 16 or he’s 17

and in issue 4, he’s either a late 17 or an early 18 here at this point in the story.

sidenote, jason with long hair and scruff is a LOOK!

and this is the Moment where they have sex in issue 6 when jason is 18

and the aftermath

I’m pretty sure that’s a condom wrapper next to the phone.

compare jason in issue 1 to issue 6. he goes from a teen to an adult, and the transitions are obvious.

NOW

let’s get into the why.

it’s clear that talia is most likely using jason to get at bruce, but along the way she grows to care for jason.

it should be noted that at that point jason is still emotionally a mess from everything, and talia is dealing with her father’s death, so they’re two compromised individuals seeking comfort in one another. it’s cathartic. but that doesn’t make it healthy.

from the ages of 15 to 18 talia is jason’s primary caretaker. she doesn’t raise him, she’s not his mother, not biologically, legally, or technically. but she is a mother figure to him.

and talia is significantly older than jason, being in either her late 20s or early 30s

they aren’t unaware of their connection through batman, talia being his ex and jason being his adopted son

basically their having sex is a literal and figurative way of saying ‘screw you’ to the man

so their connection through bruce, age difference, power imbalanced relationship in the lost days story line, and their emotionally vulnerable states means that their having sex is unhealthy and it’s meant to be seen that way, it’s not supposed to be “hot” or good.

talia throughout the story manipulates jason into being the type of man bruce refuses to be, one who kills without hesitation.

but I wouldn’t say she takes advantage of him, not in the way you’d assume.

this isn’t a grooming situation, talia manipulates jason emotionally but not sexually. it’s messed up, we’re not contesting that

however, we will say that jason todd is legally an adult when talia has sex with him and it’s clear that it’s consensual on both their parts

jason’s not in a good head space when it happens but he is an adult physically, mentally and emotionally.

it’s not statutory rape or incestuous, but it is very very messed up.

the closest comparison I can make is, imagine during stephanie brown’s batgirl run when she was an 18 year old college student and wasn’t dating tim drake at the time, if bruce wayne found himself attracted to her and had sex with stephanie brown in spite of her being his son’s ex girlfriend who tim obviously was still in love with and would never be over, bruce being significantly older than stephanie, not acting as a father figure towards her, but a mentor of sorts over the years, and bruce knowing stephanie since she was a 14 year old teenage girl. illegal? no. messed up? very.

I’m aware an 18 year old jason’s not going to have the same maturity level as someone older, he’s still growing, but that’s not the point here.

it’s consensual and legal sure

but it’s also unhealthy and messed up for the reasons listed above

it’s interesting, that jason wanting to find his biological mother was the major catalyst that drove him to the events that led to his death, and after he rose from the dead he found a mother figure in talia

#talia al-ghul #jason todd #red hood #batfam #batfamily #my post

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whateverisbeautiful · 5 years

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Reveling in Richonne

#155: The Fair (9x15)

In this episode every character learned a valuable lesson. It’s a lesson that Rick knew since seasons ago but these people had to learn the hard way. And that lesson is; When Michonne has a gut feeling about something, it’s in everyone’s best interest to listen, trust her instinct, and follow her lead.

Sis has great intuition, especially about this fair. As I so often say, Michonne has such a good head on her shoulders...and so would some of these other characters if only they had listened to her.

So the episode begins with King Ezekiel speaking at the fair and I appreciate King Ezekiel opening the fair with a nod to Rick and Carl. He mentions how part of why they have a new tomorrow is because of “a man who’s mission was to build community and strengthen the bonds between us. A man who had to destroy the very thing that connected us, in order to save us.”

He then acknowledges, “It took us far too long to fulfill the promise of what Rick Grimes and his son Carl envisioned.” It’s crazy that the two characters at the foundation of this show have to be spoken about in past tense. 😔

And it’s significant that they cut to Siddiq when King Ezekiel says their names, cuz Carl’s willingness to take Siddiq in has provided him a whole new family seven years later.

So then Michonne and Judith show up to the fair with Daryl and Connie and Lydia and Henry. King Ezekiel sees Michonne and greets her and then Carol walks in front of Judith and it’s cool seeing them together since Carol was one of Judith’s primary caretakers back in the days of season 3 and 4.

She says, “Judith?” and Michonne looks down at Judith and smiles and nods. Carol having to ask if that’s Judith had me like dang so y’all really haven’t been around each other in a looooong time. 🤔😐

I know Michonne (AND OTHERS) decided to keep Alexandria more isolated but I also feel confident that, even with everything Michonne went through and had on her plate, if any of her OG TF members had showed up to see her she wouldn’t have shut them out. So I was lowkey looking at Carol and Ezekiel like after all these years why haven’t y’all...

Carol asks Judith if she remembers them and Judith says she’s been drawing pictures of them since she was little so she def remembers. Judith’s memory is A1 lol.

And then it’s an adorable moment when Judith notes that Carol’s hair got really long and Carol smiles and touches her hair saying, “It did.” ☺️😋

And then Tara approaches (with attitude 😒) and Michonne takes initiative to say, “Gather up all the leaders. We have a lot to talk about.”

So then we get this scene in the Kingdom’s auditorium where Michonne explains how she hasn’t seen eye to eye with everyone in this room but she never stopped caring about any of them.

She looks over at Judith and says, “I was just trying to protect my family and do right by my people.”

And I was like Sis no need to explain cuz these others should’ve been knew that and had compassion on you. 💯

(Side note: I know I’ve touched on it already but it really does boggle my mind that rather than have these other characters express an apology over the way in which they weren’t there for Michonne, instead Michonne was the one expected to explain herself and clear the air of why she did what she did.

She is doing the best she can as a matriarch of a family and leader to a community. And she’s taking on so much responsibility, even despite her own personal pain and trauma. Imo the only apology should be from the people who left her to do so much of this on her own.)

So then Michonne establishes that while they lost sight of it for awhile, Alexandria’s future is with the rest of the communities and she’s here now and they’re here now. Which is great news for these people. But of course the petty in me was looking at the other characters in the room like yes we’re here but uh...

Father G declares that Lydia has been granted asylum and is one of them now but Tara’s not feeling it since it puts a target on Hilltop’s back. Michonne admits to not wanting it at first either and how she told Lydia to run away when she came to her gates and was angry when she didn’t.

Tara says, “Then you know why I’m not okay with this.” Which...

Tara and that attitude needed to find their way to the exit effective immediately cuz I know she’s not about to think being the newest leader of Hilltop gives her permission to come at Michonne with a tone. #StepBack

Michonne is gracious though and understands why Tara wouldn’t be okay with this so she says, “I do.” And then y’all, heres the kicker that got me most. She says, “I also know why Rick didn’t trust me when I showed up at the gates of the prison.” Y’all…powerful.😭

I love that she brings this up. First of all; you know my nostalgic self loves a callback. Especially a callback to where Richonne all started. I appreciate that she remembers the day she showed up to the prison and the time period when she and Rick were first getting to know each other and that she’s allowing that to motivate her to be open to others.

It’s sweet that Michonne sort of has this fond smile as she says this cuz she remembers how her and Rick’s journey begun and also knows where it ended up. They fell in love. 🥰 They have a full on son. 🙌🏽 So that day she showed up to the prison proved to be more impacting than they ever could’ve imagined. 👌🏽🎉 It showed her how far people can come when they agree to go on the journey together.

Also I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again; Michonne is still so in love with Rick. You can just see it on her face whenever he comes up and I’m here for it. I look forward to the times in the movies where Rick will think of and speak of Michonne with that same love for her still visibly ablaze in him too.

And then Michonne gives Tara some personal perspective saying, “And how people didn’t trust you after seeing you on the other side of the governors firing line.”

Tara needed to hear this cuz her past seems to be something she very often forgets. Also I’m here for season 3 and four callbacks all in one scene.

Tara hears this out and acknowledges it’s a fair point. Michonne says, “Lydia didn’t choose where she came from, but she chose where she wanted to be. Just like everyone in this room.” Gospel. And to me, this totally speaks to how Michonne had to make the active choice to commit to this family when she followed Rick and Carl’s footsteps in season 4 and found them in that house. And that decision of choosing where she wanted to be then grew into the beautiful Grimes family we see now. 😌 Won’t He Do It!

So then Michonne proposes this mutual protection pact cuz sis knows how to take foundational steps forward. #MichonneForPresident👏🏽👏

Tara asks how they seal the deal and King Ezekiel takes out the charter that Michonne worked so hard on and that Tara’s rude behind took. And Michonne says a surprised, “How did you…” and then Tara wants to be cute and say King Ezekiel must be magic or something, but I was like...

Cuz Tara needed to fess up lol. Tara then indicates how she took it when she left cuz she did what she thought was right and then she apologizes for the way it went down and then the writers make Michonne say “me too” and thank Tara because “she was right” which had me like…

I was not feeling this from the writers. Y’all, already know why. When Michonne says, “You were right.” Tara says, “You were too.” and someone I watch with was like, Tara should have said “You were first.” instead. I like that cuz somebody needed to acknowledge that Michonne was the one who had this right from the beginning as the originator of this charter six years ago. 👌🏽

Like Tara just took the charter, Michonne straight up worked tirelessly and created it so she’s been right.

So then they all start to sign it and they show each person’s signature and y’all can I tell you about my disappointment. 😪 Like for real this next part had me so excited and then so disappointed within seconds of each other.

Cuz as they were signing the charter and making it a point to show everyone’s signatures, I literally paused my TV before they got to Michonne and took a moment to emotionally rejoice cuz I was so certain that Michonne was about to sign this charter with the name “Michonne Grimes.”

I thought for sure this would be her moment to declare her whole name, like how Maggie got to declare herself Maggie Rhee in season seven. So I was holding my breath with anticipation as Michonne took the pen like...

But then Michonne gets the pen and instead of signing it she passes it to Father Gabriel and I was just so let down. 😞 Literally was just watching like..

This charter signing would have been such a great opportunity to have Michonne Grimes be known. And it’s also a let down cuz sis is the one who worked so hard to even build this document and yet her name won’t even be on it. That just feels wrong. 😑

But at the same time Michonne’s about to bounce from this show so that Danai can soar other places, so I feel like this was her saying I’m about to roll out so this can be y’all’s thing. 😂 And with the way her star has been rising higher and higher I don’t blame her for saying...

Next time we see Michonne she’s walking with Siddiq who tells her King Ezekiel gave a nice speech about Rick.

I appreciate that Siddiq wants Michonne to know that her boys were honored and I love that these two seem to have a real genuine friendship.

Michonne says she heard about Ezekiel’s speech and is sorry she missed it and Siddiq says he’s sure the king would let her read it. Michonne then lets him know she’s actually going out to Hilltop with the first group cuz a Get Things Grime don’t never sleep. Even when Siddiq offers to take her place, Homegirl is like no I got this and wants to stick to the plan.

She also tells Siddiq that he should enjoy his time at the fair cuz he deserves it but I was like sis you do too!! Please rest. 🙏🏽But then I remembered for her she’s without the one man who made resting most possible, the one man who gave her these light and airy moments like no one else could. So without Rick it’s probably hard for her to feel just completely at ease with being celebratory.

Michonne asks Siddiq to keep an eye on Judith who’s cutely playing with Jerry and his kids. 😊 Siddiq says no problem cuz he could probably use the experience anyway. Michonne asks how come and I was like girl you don’t know about this super awkward love quadrangle? Lucky her. I don’t want to know about it either. 😂

But Siddiq says he’ll tell her when he sees her which I’m glad he does see her again cuz he came real close to ending up on a pike.

Before Michonne heads out we see her and Judith share a sweet hug. While of course I’d love if Michonne just got to stay and chill with her daughter (and I really hope they give her moments to do that in season 10 cuz it’s what she deserves), I also know that she’s one of the most capable fighters they have so she feels the need to be out here in these streets protecting people too. Michonne and Rick really are cut from the same cloth. 💯

And then there’s a very cute exchange between Daryl and Connie. ☺️ I love that Connie has brought out this whole other side of Daryl. Like he’s sweeter, and more gentle, and also more willing to enunciate cuz he has to. I like seeing him like this. 👌🏽

Connie tells him to be safe and then he says you too. And then he taps Connie on the shoulder and asks if she’ll feed his dog while he’s gone. Y’all...He basically just proposed to Connie lol. If he trusts her with his dog that means he trusts her with his life.

And Connie’s all sweet and agrees to take the dog. And then as she walks away Daryl has one of the most adorably awkward waves. He’s catching feelings, y’all. 😊👌🏽

And it was pointed out to me by my brother that Daryl actually subtly gives Connie a look as she walks away that is very similar to the signature looks Rick was so famous for whenever he was around Michonne. I’m telling you once you doing that look, you know you’re smitten. Ask Rick. 😋💯

Before Carol leaves she tells King Ezekiel to try and enjoy the fair but he says he won’t enjoy anything until she’s back and I was like that pretty much sums up what Michonne must feel deep inside. Of course she can be happy and appreciate things but to fully enjoy…that will happen once Rick returns back to her. 👌🏽

Michonne, Carol, Daryl, and Yumiko break off into their own group and get surrounded by Whisperers at night. Alpha greets them and I love how Michonne’s just standing there all unfazed like trick I have seen it all, you don’t scare me. 😂 She just matter of factly lets Alpha know all their communities intend to protect Lydia.

I love that Alpha asks Michonne’s name and she’s just like “Michonne.” Ask about me. 😎

Alpha tries to cause some kind of internal division by asking Daryl if Michonne speaks for him but I appreciate Daryl’s saying, “We speak for each other.”

I really liked that response. Plus, Daryl and Michonne go way back so Alpha was wasting her time trying to stir that pot.🙄 #TryAgain.

We see some of how Alpha was able to infiltrate the fair and one of the first things she says to King Ezekiel in order to blend in is about Michonne and how surprised everyone is that she showed up. Alpha, keep her name out your mouth. 😑

They show the movie scene and it’s adorable seeing Judith all excited for the movie. These are like all new experiences for her and it’s fascinating to think about what something like this feels like for a child who was born into and grew up in an apocalypse.

And of course it’d be all nice and lovely if this was the happily ever after of the episode but as we know Michonne, Carol, Daryl, and Yumiko find Siddiq and soon after find a bunch of people they know and care about with their heads on pikes.

Y’all, I admit only like Tammy Rose and that one Highway man who just wanted to see a movie felt sorta sad to me. The others...

#NoShade...ButShade. And while I wasn’t sad over these deaths and even felt it was about time for some of them, Danai and Avi do a great job of really conveying the emotion and shock and appalling-ness of this moment. All the actors in this scene do. 👏🏽

And then it’s nice that they have Siddiq tell the story not of how the pike victims died but of how they spent the last moments of their life fighting and helping each other. That’s what it’s all about. 👌🏽💯😌

So while Michonne Grimes didn’t get to confirm the last name this episode, I hope she will in season ten cuz that’s undoubtedly who she is. And I also hope that these characters will have taken to heart that oh so valuable lesson they learned; trust Michonne. #NothingButRespectForMyQueen👌

gifs source: @michonnegrimes

#richonne #s9 #9.15 #life ain't fair #but it's still worth fighting for

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izaswritings · 6 years

Text

Title: Dreaming of Flowers

Fandom: D.Gray-man

Summary: In which Alma Karma is recovered not by Central, but by a young Bak Chang determined to save the boy whose life his parents destroyed.

AO3 version is here.

Chapter One is here.

Chapter Two is here.

Chapter Three is here.

Chapter Four is here.

Notes: Woo, an update!! I’m really excited to share this chapter with you all—these next few chapters, starting here, mark a big turning point for Alma. I’m so excited to finally start writing it, and I hope you all enjoy!! Thank you as always for your views, kudos, and lovely comments. They never fail to make my day.

Warnings for a detailed description of scars/trauma, traumatic flashbacks/panic attacks, and Alma’s usual brand of murderous intent.

Chapter Five: After the Storm

In the aftermath of Central’s investigation and Lvellier’s departure, things finally begin to settle. As if, after that first week of strife, Central’s leave-taking marks the start of a new period— finally healing now that the worst of the damage has been contained. It does not make their wounds ache any less, or the grief any better, but it does mean they can breathe a bit easier, now that Lvellier’s presence at the base is gone, like a sigh of relief echoing in his wake.

Time, no longer a danger, seems to flow normally again. No longer does Bak count the days and hours like a man gone mad, tracking Alma’s wavering hold on life or the time between CROW’s shifts and Fo’s speed. No longer does he count the days until he can rest. The restful days are here, and Bak can finally breathe easy—for now, at least.

Lvellier will be back. Bak is certain of it. The man’s parting words had not been a goodbye, after all—they had been a warning.

Still, the rest, limited though it is bound to be, is sorely needed. Bak finds his days settling into a pattern. His mornings and middays are spent slowly but surely rebuilding the morale and stability of the Branch, restarting projects and continuing tasks that had been stalled by the tragedy. He hires new help to replace the missing, fills the power vacuums in the research and science divisions and sends those too distraught to focus home for some much-needed vacation. Some leave for good. Some don’t.

In the afternoons and evenings, Bak visits Alma. Wong sees to the boy the most, being the primary caretaker for Alma’s injuries, but though it hurts to see Alma, Bak cannot ignore him. People say the pull of grief lessened with time, but Bak isn’t convinced. Nearly a month has passed, but the pain has not, sinking in and settling instead of fading, like a blood stain. Grief is a constant needle-prick, an eternal pull, and just because he’s learned to live with it doesn’t make it any easier. But Bak’s grief is not Alma’s fault, and neither is his guilt—and so even though it aches every time he looks the boy in the face, Bak keeps going, day after day, like clockwork.

Alma, for his part, remains mostly confined to the ruins. His wounds, numerous and deep, take twice as long to heal any other humans' would—but they heal, mending slowly but surely. Alma, on the other hand, goes from quiet and still to almost sullen, resentment and exhaustion always weighing on his shoulders. He talks more, but his voice is either emotionless or bitter or furious, with no in-between. It has been three weeks since the incident, but he has asked for nothing from them.

Bak worries about that, but there isn’t much he can do about it at this moment. He is still doing damage control for Alma’s existence, waiting for the memories of the strange boy who’d appeared during the massacre, injured and screaming, to fade from the minds of his doctors and surgeons, with a little help from time and old magic. And, he suspects, the Order’s memory drug, though he is not brave enough to ask Fo directly.

Underhanded it may be, but Bak will take no chances. Lvellier is cunning, for all his pride. He had not questioned the doctors and nurses then, because they were little more important than finders, and as such expendable and invisible to his eyes. But once the man realizes that Alma’s body is not among the dead, that will soon change. Bak does not intend to be blindsided.

Until then, Alma will have to stay to the ruins. He is hidden from prying eyes, and the remote area is reachable only to those Fo gives access to. It is the safest place to be, right now, and at this point in time that is all Bak can hope for.

Of course, most of Bak’s visits with Alma end in awkward silence. How could they not? But Bak hopes—hopes with every fiber of his being—that maybe the visits are doing some good. That maybe Alma understands Bak’s promise wasn’t a lie, or looks forward to his company.

At times visiting Alma is harder than all of his Branch Chief duties combined. But as Bak walks down the halls towards the ruins where Alma lies hidden, he can’t help but think that he wouldn’t have it any other way.

For all of the difficulties, it is worth it. At least with Alma, Bak can rest assured that is he doing something good.

When he reaches the heavy stone door hiding Alma from view, Bak stops and takes a fortifying breath. The first few times he’d come here, hives had broken all out over his skin. Now it is only nerves that twist his stomach, his skin clear, hands steady. Every day it becomes a little easier to look Alma in the eye.

He knocks on the stone door, the rough material scratching at his bare knuckles, because it is polite and he wants to give Alma some warning before he enters. Then he takes another deep breath and pushes open the door, striding inside.

He doesn’t look at Alma, instead busying himself with pushing the door back in place. Only when the door is shut, and Bak’s clothes brushed free of any dust he could have picked up on the way over, does Bak turn to meet Alma’s eye.

“Hello, Alma,” he says, remarkably calm. Movement on the other side of the room draws his eye; Wong is sorting supplies into a cabinet. Bak had been wondering where he was. “Wong. How are you today?”

Alma remains silent, as usual. He almost never responds to Bak’s questions. Wong merely shakes his head.

“His wounds are healing well, if slowly,” he says simply. “I believe we will be able to remove young Alma’s bandages for good tomorrow, in fact,” Wong adds, smiling down at Alma. The boy looks studiously at the sheets, one hand tightening in the fabric. “After that, I think we can begin rehab.”

“Really?” Bak says, startled but delighted at the news, and this time the smile he gives Alma is small but genuine. Alma’s slow healing has worried at him for some time, and the progress is heartening. “That’s great!”

Alma’s shoulders rise up to his ears, and he turns away, saying nothing.

This time Bak doesn’t let Alma’s lack of enthusiasm bother him, even if the lackluster reaction is… less heartening to see. He pulls up a chair and settles down slowly, hands braced on his knees. “Once we remove the bandages,” he tells Alma calmly, hoping this news will comfort him, “you’ll be able to move around again very soon.”

The longer Alma doesn’t react, the more worried Bak becomes. “I… I think, after that, you won’t have to stay here anymore. The ruins, I mean. That is, if you want…?”

For a moment he thinks Alma will ignore this, too, just as he has all other attempts at conversation, but at this the boy pauses, sucking in a tiny breath and finally turning his head to look at Bak.

“I,” he says finally, haltingly. “I… I can leave soon?”

Bak exchanges a look with Wong. “Yes,” he hedges. “It’s taken awhile, because your injuries were so severe, but your recovery has been… steadily improving.”

“Improving,” Alma repeats, and his bandaged hand lifts to gently touch at his stump.

“Yes,” says Bak, but he’s looking at Alma’s missing arm too, brow furrowed in thought, mind whirling. He hadn’t really dared to think about it, too caught up in Branch politics and making sure Alma was safely hidden from the Order, but now that things are calm…

He bites his lip, unsure, but before he can give voice to his suggestion Alma looks up and meets his eyes head on.

“So you mean, since I’m improving,” he says, voice suddenly so much stronger and yet strangely stripped of emotion, “that means I can leave soon?”

Bak straightens. “The room? Yes. I… I don’t see why not. You might have to stay in the medical ward for a bit, but after that—yes, of course.”

Alma nods over his blankets. “Okay,” he says. He sighs, tension bleeding from his small body, shoulders slumping. He looks relieved. It makes something in Bak twist with guilt, to see that heartbreaking relief in the boy’s drawn face. “Okay.”

“Soon,” Bak promises, stronger now, surer now. The look on Alma’s face, the quiet plea in his voice, has soothed over his worries. He’ll get the boy out of the room as soon as his bandages are removed, and not a week later. “You’ll be able to leave very soon. I promise.”

Alma smiles at his bandaged hands, head bowed and his remaining hair hanging in his face. Bak cannot see his eyes.

“Okay,” says Alma.

He is running.

Alma is running, bare feet slapping tile and a winter coat flapping at his heels. The hallway is long, endless, cold as ice. Yuu is front of him, his jacket billowing around him like a cape, inky hair fluttering in a breeze of his own making as he sprints down the halls.

“Yuu!”

Yuu laughs, short and mean, small face turned briefly in Alma’s direction. His eyes are clear and curved in laughter. His smile is all teeth, childish joy clashing with mischievous malice. The halls stretch on before them, endless, dark with uncertainty.

“Yuu, wait!”

“Idiot, it’s not my fault you’re slow!” Yet Yuu is already stopping, feet slipping on the tile, hands pinwheeling to keep him steady. He looks back at Alma, watching him, his shorn dark hair fluttering around his face.

Alma just laughs, breaths panting, trying to catch up. He is almost to Yuu’s side when Yuu suddenly turns away.

“Yuu?”

Yuu isn’t looking at him. He is staring off down the endless hall, peering into the darkness with clear blue eyes. His brow furrows, and his mouth draws down into a frown. Some nameless emotion flickers across his face, and then Yuu is running again, faster than before, flying down the hall like there are hounds at his heels.

“Yuu!” Alma cries, and reaches for him, but all of a sudden, his steps are slow and Yuu is so far away, and his fingers close on empty air. He tries to run after him but cannot keep up, cannot gain ground—the floor like ice beneath his feet, slippery and cold, and no matter how hard he tries Yuu is just so far away.

“Yuu, come back!” Alma calls, but this time Yuu doesn’t hear him, and he runs and runs until the darkness of the hall swallows him whole, devours him in an instant, not even the reassuring thuds of his footsteps left behind.

“Yuu, wait!” Alma pleads, terrified at his absence. “Yuu, I can’t keep up! Where are you?”

There is no response. “Yuu, I think I’m lost. Where are you? Are you here? …Yuu?”

There is no answer. There is no sound. Only silence, and Alma, alone. He is walking an empty hallway. The walls are taller now, taller than anything he’s ever known, the blank and unfeeling stone rising ceaselessly, endlessly. There is no ceiling but there is no sky, either; just the dark. Still, he knows, somehow—that same unfeeling stone sits above his head. There is no fabled blue here, no clouds or wind or sky. Just stone, and ice, and Alma.

“…Yuu, this isn’t funny. Please come back. Please come back. I don’t want to be here alone! Please, Yuu…”

His voice is dying, withering his throat, too quiet for anyone to hear. But there is no one to hear. There is no one else.

Alma walks, and walks, and walks. No one comes. No one is there. Not the scientists or Doctor Edgar or Yuu. He tries to call out again but his voice is silenced. He tries to speak but no sound comes. Even his footsteps have been hushed, his bare heels slamming without sound on the brittle ice.

Yuu, he tries to call. Yuu, where are you?

He walks. The walls have no end. There are no doors. There is no sky. No Yuu. No scientists.

No one.

Just Alma.

He walks on forever into the gloom, but no matter how long he searches, no one ever comes.

There are one hundred and forty-seven cracks in the ceiling.

Alma knows this the way he knows that there are thirty-six bricks that make up the wall his bed is pushed against, forty-nine bricks on the opposing walls, and another twenty-one bricks building up the last wall, excluding the door. He knows because in the past three weeks he’s been awake and aware, he’s had almost nothing to do but count them.

Granted, most of his time is spent asleep—Alma sleeps all the time now, for hours and hours on end. In the beginning, he could barely stay awake for longer than two hours at a time; by now he can stay awake for almost six, but those six hours are so boring he prefers to sleep instead, no matter how disturbing his dreams are.

Recovery, Alma is quickly discovering, is awfully slow.

Today, alas, is no different.

Alma is roused from slumber by Wong, who is normally the one who wakes him these days, to change his bandages. As usual, Wong greets his awakening with a warm smile.

Alma fights against the instinctual urge to smile back, irritated by the reflex, and turns his head away. This does not deter Wong. It has never deterred Wong. Another annoyance.

Well-used to this routine, Alma pushes himself up upright with his one remaining arm. It takes him a bit to regain his bearings, his body wavering in the air from the imbalance, but Alma rights himself quickly. The bandages across his chest pull at the motion, but there is no pain—there hasn’t been pain for quite a few times now, if Alma remembers right.

As if aware of Alma’s thoughts, Wong turns to smile at him from where he is fussing with the medicine tray. “Things will be a bit different today,” he informs Alma brightly, and Alma cannot quite help the brief strike of fear at those words before he hears what Wong says next.

“Your bandages are coming off!”

Alma blinks at him, so startled he forgets to be unfriendly. “Off?” he repeats, voice squeaking high in his surprise. He’s forgotten that was to be today; in truth he’s been trying hard not to think about it. In all the time he’s been aware, he has yet to have his bandages removed fully, nor been able to see what’s beneath without wanting to cry.

Wong looks delighted at the simple response, and Alma’s cheeks flush. He ducks his head, biting his lip between his teeth to starve of further outbursts. He can physically feel his cheeks burn red.

“Yes,” Wong confirms warmly, and lifts up a new item from the tray, a handheld mirror with a clean surface and carved wood handle. “I couldn’t fit a large one through the ruins, but I hope this will suffice. Master Bak brought it my attention that we have yet to give you a mirror—I apologize for the oversight.” He hesitates, then offers the mirror to Alma, his face suddenly stoic and uncertain. “Ah… would you like to see?”

Alma stares at the mirror, fear coiling in his gut. His throat is tight. All this time, it hasn’t occurred to him that… well, he looks different now. Another side-effect of the no healing thing.

Hesitant, his remaining hand shaking from either strain or nerves, Alma reaches for the mirror and slowly brings it up to his face. He turns the handle in his hand awkwardly, still not used to having only one arm, until the reflective face is within sight.

For a moment, he cannot even recognize himself.

When the image finally clicks, Alma’s first thought is, bizarrely, Good thing it wasn’t Yuu who got cut up,if only because Yuu has always been a little vain, and he’d have hated looking like this. But all that does is remind him that—that these scars, it was Yuu who put them there, and then any humor in the thought is lost.

At second glance, he doesn’t look that different, just… off. His hair has been cut short, near shaved, probably to avoid getting stuck in his wounds. Most of his face is okay, at least half of it, but the other half of his face—the side with the bandaged eye—is less so. Even with all the bandages, he can see the ends of long, straight, slashing scars cutting down his skin, tapering off at his chin and reaching up into his hairline. There’s even one particularly nasty cut right across his lips, the wound raw and red but sealed shut. The line he’s always had across his nose is still there, and remarkably unaffected, but even that, he suspects, is now bisected by a few trailing cuts, judging from how the left half is hidden beneath the white bandages.

The sight makes his toes curl. If his face is this badly off—even if it’s only half—just what about the rest of him?

Yuu had cut at him over and over and over. That sharp sword had fallen on Alma’s head for what felt like ages, the tip scouring Alma’s face and digging ruthlessly into his body. Alma has the sudden notion that question is not, what parts of me are scarred, but rather, is there any part of me that isn’t.

Silent, he watches without reaction as Wong carefully takes away the bandages, peeling them back layer by layer. His eye is gone, as he suspected, a mess of ruined and torn flesh that will never probably heal. His shoulders and chest are similarly scarred—his right side, with his missing arm, is colored pale and wrinkled, with those veiny scars running across the right side of his chest and crawling up his neck like tree roots, from the Innocence. His left side is no better—it is a mess of straight, clean cuts, vertical scars running all the way down his torso. Even his remaining arm has not escaped unscathed—the same slit marks dot up and down the arm, fewer but no less deep than any of the others. His back, and only his back, is the only part of him left mostly untouched.

His remaining right leg is the most intact of his limbs, with only one long cut running diagonally across his leg. His left leg, on the other hand… that bears no mention. It is gone above the knee, the worst-off of his limbs beside his arm. He missing an eye, an arm, and a leg in full—and missing pieces everywhere else.

The whole time his bandages are being removed, Alma stays still and silent but for the slight tilting of his mirror to get a better glimpse of the damage. He sees every scar in full, every red-inflamed still healing slash in its entirety. Only the ends of his missing arm and leg are left bandaged, the amputated limbs still healing. The rest of him is bared free for him to see.

All those scars. All that damage.

Alma looks them full in the face, unflinching, and only when the last bandage—the very last, the final, revealing one last cutting mark—only then does Alma place the mirror down.

He sits still and tall on the bed, swathed in the starch white blankets, back stiff and tall as if someone has attached a string to his spine and pulled him straight, pulled him upright, refusing even a second of weakness.

He stays that way for only a moment before he buckles, shoulders falling, back bowing, his scarred visage crumbling like a broken doll’s.

Alma leans over the bed and vomits bile on the cold stone floors, but no matter how much he tries, no matter how much he expels, until he left crying and dry-heaving over the dirty floors, he cannot rid himself of the awful sickness swirling in his gut.

Bak is slowly starting to like his new office; this is regrettable for many reasons, mainly that despite this, he is still unable to enter without wanting to flinch or cry, respectively, some days worse than others. But he does like it, even with all the bad memories.

It’s the screens, Bak decides, arms resting on the oak table as he scans the numerous feeds above him. Being able to see the whole of the Branch in one room does wonders for his nerves, and it helps to know where everyone is. It’s also rather nice and comforting in what he can’t see. Alma is no-where in the feed, which means no golem has found him or even bothered to float down into the ruins, ergo no slimy Central spy (Lvellier, first and foremost, though from his mother’s complaints Bak suspects there are numerous slimy spy types in Central) can possibly find him.

A strange comfort, to be sure. But still a comfort nonetheless, and Bak will take whatever comfort he can get, thank-you-very-much.

The office is also nice for another reason—the seclusion. It is dark, and safe, and very secretive, which makes it much easier to have compromising conversations in it. Like this one, for example.

“We need to talk about Alma.”

Fo doesn’t look impressed with this statement, but whether it’s the subject or because of the way Bak presents it—feet on the desk, fingers steepled together, swirling to face her in his chair like a theater villain—Bak isn’t quite sure. Might be both, really.

“Stupid Bak,” is all she says. The three weeks of no Central have done wonders for Fo, which includes but is not limited to the return of her normal humor. “What else is there to discuss? Haven’t we already talked about everything?”

Bak raises one finger. It must be suitably dramatic, because Fo’s face pinches with irritation at the sight. “Not,” he says delicately, “about this. Not yet, anyway, which is why we’re having this conversation here, right now.”

Fo clicks her tongue, but she settles in the chair regardless. She does put her feet up on his desk, though, with a slam that makes Bak draw away on instinct and lose the nice ‘leader-pose’ he had going. He scowls at her. She smiles back, all teeth.

“Well, stupid Bak? Spit it out.”

He sighs at her, but lets it go. “Alma,” he says again, and when Fo nods at him, all attitude, yes, I know already let’s hurry it up here, adds, “We need to talk about how to move him into the base.”

The legs of Fo’s chair hit the ground with a thump. Her hands fall away from where she’d hooked them behind her head, and even her feet slide away from the table. She is wide-eyed with surprise, unease rising and then fading from her face almost faster than Bak can blink. “Come again?”

“We need to talk about how Alma will join the base,” Bak repeats, patiently, trying to hide his own unease at her reaction. He knew she’d have some arguments against it, but he hadn’t been expecting… well, that.

He pushes on, regardless. “Cover story, role, background…” Her continued silence makes him falter—this is Fo, and he knows Fo, but Bak is still new to leadership and it makes his voice taper off, waver with uncertainty. “Its… I thought about him going to one of the outside villages, but it’s not safe there. And he’s my responsibility, and the Asia Branch is the most protected place in China from akuma… So…”

“So, you think he should stay,” Fo says, voice blank.

Bak sighs. “I know he probably doesn’t want to,” he admits, voice falling quiet, his own humor fading. “But I don’t…” he scowls down at his desk, furious and uncertain and frustrated in equal measure. “Fo, where else could he go?”

Fo opens her mouth, pauses, and then presses her lips together tightly, looking irritated again. She sinks down in her chair like a limp doll, boneless and sagging in place. “I hate it when you’re right, stupid Bak.”

Bak gives her a thin smile in return. “I know. But, well. Ideas?”

Fo leans forward, chin pillowed in her unnatural hands, eyes distant in thought. “Hmm… researcher?”

Bak bites his lip, grimacing at the thought. “Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

Fo’s brows furrow, and then her eyes close with a heavy sigh. “No,” she agrees sadly. She draws back and rubs a hand over her face. “Ugh, this is hard.”

“Yep.”

“Hmph. Assistant?”

Bak blinks, surprised. “To who?”

“To you, stupid Bak.”

“Wong is already the Branch Chief Assistant, and I don’t think—”

Fo waves a hand, scoffing. “No, not like that! Alma’s like, mentally ten; that wouldn’t work at all. I mean like… an actual assistant. Let the kid file paperwork, pass along messages, stuff like that.”

Bak considers it. It’s not a bad idea, all things considered—it’d keep Alma as a part of the base, while simultaneously keeping him mostly off-record and away from anything that might upset him, namely experiments and scientists. Plus, if Central ever comes again, later down the road, Bak would have a perfectly good handful of excuses and meaningless tasks to keep Alma busy and far away from them.

It’s a great idea, except for one glaring flaw.

“He’s not well enough yet,” Bak says finally. “His wounds are still healing, and he’s lost… his arm, leg, left eye… Those kinds of wounds take time to get used to. Especially if we want him to go running around the base on a daily basis.” He rubs a hand over his face. “He needs prosthetics.”

“If he wants them,” Fo points out. “A wheelchair is also an option.”

“With just one arm? He’ll need a prosthetic anyway, or have someone push him around every moment of the day.” And Bak may not know Alma very well, but he knows enough to suspect that Alma would despise that. “We’ll still ask, of course, it’s his choice, but…”

Fo must agree, judging by her grimace. “Okay, prosthetics. So what’s the problem, stupid Bak? We’re in the most developed research branch of the Order. There’s more scientists and researchers here than anywhere else.”

The question makes Bak smile, for some reason; it’s not often that Fo shows her lack of understanding about humans. “Prosthetics need to be fitted,” he tells her, trying to hide his amusement. “It’s not a one-size-fits-all deal.”

Fo wrinkles her nose, looking irritated. “Oh.” Her eyes widen. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Shit, stupid Bak, what the hell are you going to tell them?”

He winces, rubbing a hand over his face. “I… was hoping you had some ideas.”

“Oh, hell,” says Fo. “What about Wong? He’s way better at this stuff—”

“Well, he said to ask you.”

“What the fuck!” Fo shouts, and jumps to her feet to pace around the room. “Ahhh, that asshole, pushing this on me…”

Bak watches her, trying not to smile. “Well, you have been in the Branch the longest. You know what is and isn’t, well… normal. For lack of a better word.”

“Tsk, you think I actually pay attention to what shit you humans get up to here? Unless it’s something big—” She stops, breath hitching. The pause that settles over them is heavy, the massacre and the project hanging over them like a shroud. Fo swallows, her smile gone, her fire dying.

“A test,” she says finally, voice dull. “Or— a project? I don’t know all that science lingo. But you have a lot of new members, right? Lots of new people and new promotions. Tell them Alma is… a test, of sorts. Designing his prosthetics, or a wheelchair for him, tell them it’s, its…. Team-Building Exercise, I don’t know. Exorcists lose limbs all the time, after all… some even survive it. Say it’s the first step to a project like that.”

Bak considers it, trying gamely to ignore her slip. “That… could work,” he starts, slowly. “But how do we explain his presence? Or, his background? And his wounds…”

“How else?” Fo snaps, sounding annoyed. “Stupid Bak! You’re overthinking this. They aren’t going to assume the worst about him, just the obvious.”

He blinks at her, mind whirling. “You mean… Akuma attack?”

Fo waves a hand at him, as if to say, see?

“But why is he here? And why now? And—”

“We don’t have to tell them that,” Fo says blandly. “At least, not right now, and… I don’t think we can decide that without Alma, either, since he’ll have to remember it all. Tell ‘em he’s been traumatized, leave him be, and figure it out later.”

“You don’t think they’ll ask anyway?”

“In this place?” Fo asks, quietly. “Would you?”

He presses his lips together in thought, then sighs and dips his head in a nod, her point made. If there is one thing members of the Order understand, its loss. “…Okay. Okay, this could work. But—”

“Seriously, stupid Bak, if you’re overthinking this again—”

“What are we going to call him?”

Fo stops.

“Alma… he can’t use his name anymore. He just can’t. It’s too much of an indicator. So, if we bring this team in to design his prosthetics, assuming Alma even wants them… and, even if he doesn’t… what are we going to call him?”

Fo looks at him. Her foot taps restlessly on the ground, eyes distant. “Something similar,” she says, finally. “They’ll only need a first name for now; that’s all we’ll give ‘em. Privacy rights or something like that. But for his fake name… something similar.”

Bak bites his lip. He wants to argue, say this is too risky, but he doesn’t have the heart to change Alma’s name completely, make it unrecognizable. Besides, it’ll be easier for him to remember, most likely.

“Alan, Aldo, uh… Alistair? Allen?” Bak is so bad with English names. “Al…ly?”

Fo snorts at the look on his face. “Ask him,” she advises. “Even if he’s forced to pick, at least it’ll be one he chose.”

It’s good advice. Bak relaxes, relieved; making a mental note to ask Wong later for help with picking other Al- names. Maybe there’s a Chinese one, though none comes to mind at the moment.

For the first time, Bak finally feels like things are coming together. That he has a plan, now, and one that might actually work. The past few weeks of peace has been kind, yes, but it’s been a bit like living in stasis—suspended in time, immobile, neither moving back nor moving forward. Just… stuck. This—this plan, this idea, this new name—it feels like Bak is finally moving forward with his promise, and he hopes that Alma will view it the same way.

Things still aren’t better, not really. Bak thinks they won’t be better for a long time. But this feels like the first step, perhaps, in a better direction. Towards a brighter future. One where Alma can live in peace, protected and maybe even happy, hidden from Central and allowed to live as he pleases.

Maybe it’s too optimistic, too soon. But hope, Bak thinks, can never be a bad thing.

“That works,” he says, an honest and real smile on his face. He feels relieved. For all that Fo had argued against Wong suggesting her for advice, she really does have some good ideas. She’s not just a fighter, after all—she’s a watcher. She knows more than even Bak can guess.

“Thank you, Fo,” he says, pathetically grateful. “This helps so much.”

Red blooms across Fo’s cheeks, and her head ducks down as she scuffs her foot across the ground. “Whatever,” she says, but her voice is higher-pitched than normal. “Just… do me a favor?”

Bak blinks. “Yes, of course. What is it?”

Fo looks uncomfortable. “Well, see… there’s this one guy, this one scientist—if you can, can you add him to the team to design Alma’s prosthetics? He’s crazy smart, but mostly… don’t ask me why I’m sure, but he’s kind. I think… it would do him good to meet Alma. And Alma, to meet him. He’s dumb, but he makes people laugh.”

Bak muses on this, but nods. “Sure,” he says easily, trying to push back against the prick of discomfort at the idea of others knowing about Alma. After weeks of spending every waking moment panicked about possible discovery, the idea is something he still needs to adjust to. “Who is it?”

“You just promoted him, I think,” Fo says. “Maybe you know him? His name is Komui Lee.”

Change is coming.

Alma is not sure how he knows this, only knows that it is. It’s something in the air, and itch in his skin, that tells him that something is coming. It’s the same feeling that drove him to spy on the doctors the day Yuu collapsed, the same feeling that led him to the Innocence.

It’s only a week after Wong has removed most of the bandages, and while nothing is all that different, Alma suspects it will not last. There is… something. Anticipation, maybe? That makes his heart race and his palms sweat, makes his skin itch and stomach roll. Bak and Wong and even Fo, they’re preparing for something, distracted when they enter his room, when they speak. Even though nothing really changes, and Alma doesn’t really speak, they look nervous, uncertain, more distracted than usual. Of all of them, Bak is the worst—his chatter trails off and his visits run shorter. One day, he doesn’t come at all.

It’s terrifying.

Alma doesn’t know these people, not truly, and even if he did it wouldn’t really help. They wear the same white coats, the same gentle smiles, the same faces, even, when it comes to Bak Chang. The only difference is in action, but Alma held little hope for that lasting, considering what happened last time. This change in the air—this mystery— their silence, and distraction… the very idea of it terrifies him. He can barely sleep. All he can think is that Fo lied, Bak lied, they all lied, and hell never really went away after all.

They can say whatever they like, but Alma knows better now. He knows better than to believe them, no matter how kind their words, or how carefully they smile. Alma is mending, his wounds scarring shut and his mind pulling itself back together. He can sit up without help now, can stay awake for nearly a full day where once he could barely keep his eyes open for an hour. He is mending, and so their kindness will fall away like the mask it always was, and Alma will once more be cast into hell. The experiments, the torture, and the pain.

He’s not surprised, not exactly; he’s expected this to happen from the moment he woke up here instead of dying. Mostly he’s just angry. Hateful.

…Terrified.

Each day Bak walks in, Alma waits with bated breath, heart pounding. Each day he leaves, and nothing happens, Alma finally relaxes. The fear never fades but it varies, still, is strongest when Bak is there, because Alma knows that whatever Bak decides will change Alma’s remaining life forever.

He knows when Bak is due to visit him, and just like every time before, when Bak arrives, Alma freezes. He’s not sure what about Bak irritates him so much, angers him so greatly. Maybe it is the look on Bak’s face, the gleam of his eye. Maybe it is the smile on his face.

He looks so much like Doctor Edgar that for a moment Alma is blinded by his hatred, so angry he doesn’t even hear what Bak is saying, his hearing a mess of white noise and a steady pounding, right up until Bak says, “Is that okay?”

Alma stares at him, uncomprehending and a little thrown; he does not think he has ever heard those words before, at least not directed at him. No one has ever asked Alma if he was okay with something, or least never asked the question about anything important.

“What?”

Bak doesn’t look irritated at his confusion, merely gives a patient sort of smile and repeats, “Is that okay?”

Alma feels stupid and suddenly ashamed for not listening, and then angry all over again, because he hates feeling stupid. “What did you say?”

“Ah,” says Bak, realization on his face, and before Alma can muster the energy to be upset about that too, continues, “I was saying that we—ah, that is, Fo, Wong, and I—we were thinking of moving you out of the room soon. Out into the… Main Branch. Sometime later this week, if all goes well, but to do that we need to give you an alias.”

Alma blinks. “Alias?”

Bak frowns in thought. “A… fake name, if you will.” His gaze settles on Alma, calm and almost pitying. “I wish we didn’t have to, but your name is… known by Central, even if your face isn’t. So. A new name.”

Alma stares. “A… new name.”

“You don’t have to pick a full one now!” Bak assures, hands half-rising from his knees in assurance. “Just a first name. I… we thought it would help if the first two letter remained the same, Al-, to make it easier, but you can take any name you choose.”

Alma ducks his head. “Al- names are fine,” he mutters. “Pick whichever you want.”

“It’s your choice,” Bak pushes. “I—I made a list, if you’d like to look and pick, but there is no need to—”

“What names are on the list?”

Bak pauses, startled into silence. “Ah, um. Alistair, Algor, Allen, Aly—”

“Aly’s fine.”

Bak hesitates again. “Are you sure? There are—there are many other names, if you’d like to...”

“Aly’s fine,” Alma repeats, trying to sound sharp, but he just sounds tired, instead. He brings up his one good arm to lay across his face, hiding his expression from view. The fact it hides him from Bak too is merely circumstantial.

Bak is silent for a long while. “Aly it is then,” he says at last, gentle. “That’s all we need for now. The rest of your story… we have time for that. People here… they know not to ask about the past. You’ll be fine for a while, as they get to know you.” He hesitates again. “Alma…”

Bak trials off, goes quiet. When the silence stretches on too long for his liking, Alma takes a fortifying breath and says, voice only a little strangled, “What is it?”

Bak doesn’t say anything for a moment, and then he sighs, slow and careful. “Alma,” he repeats. “Would you… would you like some prosthetics?”

He doesn’t want to ask. He doesn’t want to ask, except—

“Prosthetics?”

“They are—they are artificial uh, devices? They’re built to replace lost body parts, like your… arm and leg. Or eye, even! We could—we could build you an arm. A leg. It wouldn’t be the same as the real thing, of course, but it would give you more mobility if—”

“Okay,” Alma says, and Bak falls abruptly silent, sucking in a breath and whatever else he meant to say, fingers tightening on his coat.

“Right,” he says. “I’ll get on that, then.” His hands tighten again, then relax, and Bak stands from the chair, the legs scraping back against the stone with a soft screech. He’s messing with a nearby side table, and after a moment he pulls out a silver pen, triumphantly holding to above his head, reaching for some paper with the other. “I’ll need some time to—”

But Alma isn’t listening anymore. The moment Bak stands, hand held high above his head, aboveAlma’s head, the little silver pen gleaming in the light, in the corner of Alma’s eye, Alma’s thoughts stutter and halt, the planet stilling. It’s as if the world has gone blank and hazy, reality warping before his eyes. Like standing in a room and spinning until you can’t stand, limbs weak and head aching, and no matter how hard you try everything is still changing around you, distorting before your dizzy eyes. The lights are dimmed, the walls far away and too close in equal measure, and for a moment the cloth bedsheets against his back almost feel like stone—

His mind is filled with white noise, his vision blurring and ears ringing. Alma cannot breathe. He is drowning, drowning all over again, the world dark and cold and lonely, his back against stone and blood in his lungs, limbs burning, and the only thing he can hear is Yuu crying and the wet thuds as Yuu’s pretty silver sword, now turned ugly red, digs again and again into his chest, and then nothing, nothing, because Yuu is gone, Yuu left him there—

“Alma? Alma!”

There’s a hand on his shoulder, a familiar voice ringing in his ears— “You’re so young,” this voice whispers, a hand brushing his cheek, “Oh God, look at you, you’re so young,”—and Alma curls in on himself to escape that hand, to escape that lying voice, crying; near screaming, wanting nothing more than to get away.

I can’t breathe.

“Alma, please—”

“Stupid Bak, what did you do—”

“I don’t know, I don’t know, he just—”

And then a new voice, soft and gentle, low and rhythmic, closer than the others and calm where they are frantic, says, “Young man, can you hear me? I am here with you. Can you hear me? Alma? Alma, listen to what I say.”

In Alma’s ears he can hear the ringing of white noise, the pounding of his heartbeat and footsteps, the dull thud of a sharp sword hitting flesh, the scrape of his Innocence along the floor, the crack in Yuu’s voice as he says—

But this voice, calm and controlled, mingles with the others, breaks through the noise. “Breathe in,” this voice is saying. “Breathe out. Breathe in.”

But I can’t breathe.

“Yes, you can. Deep breaths, Alma.” Something cold presses against his hand, wet and dewy against his clammy palm. “Alma, you are holding a cup of water. You are in the Asia Branch with me, Master Bak, and Miss Fo. You are here, safe, in this room.”

The voice is wrong, he must be, Alma is in— he is in— he is in a dark room—but there is light in his eyes, and the glass is cold against his hand, icy on his skin, solid and real, and why is there? It wasn’t there before, he knows this, it was—

“Alma. With me. Breathe in. Slow inhale, and exhale.”

It’s so hard to breathe.

“I know. It always is. But you can do it. Breathe in.”

Yuu—

“Breathe out.”

Alma is drowning. Alma’s lungs are filled with blood and bone and ash, and Yuu is gone, the shining silver sword gone with him, and there is stone under his back—

Except no, that’s wrong. Stiff cotton sheets, and lit stone walls instead of empty corridors. No screaming, no crying, no flash of that shining sword—just white coats, a cold-water glass, and a calm voice, Wong’s voice, saying “Breathe in, young man, breathe in.”

Alma opens his mouth and breathes.

He sucks in air as though he is starving, as if he hasn’t breathed in years. It’s too quick, too uncontrolled, and he gasps as if he truly was drowning, chokes and coughs and tries to keep from sobbing. He pulls his hand around himself, a makeshift hug, his fingers clenched white-knuckled on the glass of water, and turns his eyes to the sheets so he doesn’t have to look at them.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been since the world, since everything went—back—and it terrifies him, because Wong and Fo are here when they weren’t before and for a moment Alma thought—Alma truly thought—

“What,” Alma whispers, because he has felt that before, he knows he has, back when remembering a life that is no longer his, but those were memories of long ago and so it made sense to remember them, but this—but this—

“Flashbacks,” Wong says. His voice is as calm and controlled as ever, but there is a sheen of sweat on his brow and a nervous tremble in his fingers. “They are—a usual symptom, after… traumatic experience.” A pause.

“Human,” Bak says suddenly. Alma looks at him. Bak is standing stiff and still near the door, looking the most rattled that Alma has ever seen him. His hands are twisting around again and again, and there are strange splotchy patches on his face, white and red and sickly-looking. Bak looks dizzy, leaning against the doorway like his knees are weak, and the sudden loss of control startles Alma more than he can name. In this moment Bak doesn’t look like Chief Twi or Doctor Edgar. He looks unsure, weary, and guilty—things that they never were.

It makes Alma uncomfortable to see Bak like this. He doesn’t know this man. He doesn’t even like him. But he looks into Bak’s face and has a sudden sense of—of understanding, maybe, and the thought makes his skin crawl.

Alma looks away.

“Human,” Bak says again, undeterred by Alma’s avoidance. “It’s a very human reaction to… trauma. I—That is— The Order has… much experience with it.”

Alma stares at his sheets. He isn’t sure what to think. “Oh,” he says, and leaves it at that.

There’s a rigid silence that falls after that, tense and uncertain—Wong, quiet but worried; Bak, who Alma won’t look at, who still seems so frightfully different from what Alma expects; Fo, whose knowing eyes are boring into Alma’s back.

“A-Alma,” Bak says, and then takes a deep breath. “Alma, I’m sorry, I don’t know what I did or said to, to trigger that, but….” He hesitates. “I, I’m sorry. Was it…” He falls quiet. “No. No, never mind.”

Alma curls his fingers into the cloth sheet. He has some idea of what Bak is wondering, and the reminder makes his stomach churn. He doesn’t know what, exactly brought it on, but he doesn’t think it was the talk of scars. But even if it wasn’t his scars that brought on—that—that doesn’t mean they aren’t…

He can’t look at himself in the mirror. It’s not—it’s not as bad as the flashback, not really, nothing so sudden or awful as that. But he still can’t do it. He feels sick whenever he tries, dizzy and nauseous and light-headed. His missing arm is mind-boggling, but it is the only part of him he can look at without feeling like he’s seeing a stranger, like his body is not his own.

It’s not so much his new appearance, though that is part of it. It is deeper than that. It is the fact that Alma is scarred now, and that alone he could live with, but every scar—every single one, except for the root-like remnants from the Innocence—they are from Yuu. Yuu’s sword. Yuu’s attacks. Proof, in a way, of just how thoroughly Yuu tried to kill him.

Yuu has cut Alma to shreds.

Yuu… You hurt me so badly. Did you hate me, for trying to kill you? I wouldn’t blame you if you did. But does that mean… do you still…

…Do you hate me, Yuu?

These questions swirl and tumble around his mind like a whirlwind. He doesn’t know the answer to them, doesn’t even want to acknowledge them, not really. It’s a fear he ignores, but no matter how hard he tries it remains in other ways, like the sick churning of his stomach every time he sees his face and remembers what happened, the tightness in his throat when he becomes aware of his missing leg. But worst of all is the strangling hold of his chest, painfully tight, that creeps in whenever he thinks about Yuu.

Yuu, Yuu, Yuu. All of it, Yuu.

How easy it would be, to tell them this. But they don’t deserve his answer. They don’t deserve to know Alma’s memories or his regrets or his fears, even they’re eating him up inside.

They can ask and wonder all they like. Alma will say nothing.

“It doesn’t matter,” Alma says. He breathes in, breathes out. His hand is trembling. “Get out.”

“Alma—”

“Please,” Alma says, and hates how his voice cracks, how his hand is still shaking, how afraid he is. He is so angry. He is so scared. He is all of these things, and he hates most of all how he just sounds weary instead, like he’s about to cry. “Get out, get out, get out!”

Bak stares at him, then sighs, slow and careful. “All right, Alma,” he says, soft. “Just know I am… truly sorry for… that.” He waits. When Alma doesn’t reply, his shoulders slump, and he waves Wong and Fo from the room. They go quietly, solemnly, eyes darting back as if Alma in his grief is too fascinating to look away from. He hates it.

Bak lingers by the door.

“We’ll start the prosthetics soon,” he says. “By the end of the week if all goes well. Let me know if you would like more time.”

He waits, but when Alma does not reply, reaches again for the door. Before he exits, he pauses.

“Alma,” Bak says. He opens his mouth, closes it, then grimaces and tries again. “I hope you—I wish…” He sighs. “Good night,” he says finally, “and… I hope you have sweet dreams, Alma.”

He is gone before Alma can think of a reply.

A week later, Alma opens his eyes to a new room.

Bak, Wong, and Fo had moved him here only a day before, in the dead of night, or what passes for night when the whole population is living inside a mountain. The journey had been nerve-wracking for more than one reason— even with Fo subtly shifting the halls and corridors of the Branch to keep any wandering feet far from their path, the rattling noise of Alma’s bed as they dragged him through the rubble of the ruins, the click of the squeaky wheels on the stone: all threatened to give them away. Worse yet, for Alma, was the pain—with every time the wheel would catch on stone, or the bed jump, his newly-scabbed wounds would ache, his severed limbs throbbing and his eye and head going dizzy. He’d spent the whole journey gritting his teeth, and Bak had spent the whole thing murmuring apologies until Alma was just about sick of hearing of them. An exhausting night, to be sure.

For Alma, though, the discomfort has not ended. Where in the beginning he could not seem to stay awake, now he cannot seem to sleep. The new room does not help—just through the walls he can hear the soft breaths of other people, patients and nurses bustling down the halls. The stone walls and carved columns do not hide the fact this is still a hospital, and the presence of the equipment, along with all those strangers, so close…

The fear clogs up his throat. The paranoia keeps him awake.

(Or maybe it’s the nightmares).

Either way, the result is that Alma is not nearly as happy with this change as Bak and the rest seem to be. It’s necessary— for all that Alma has no wish to stay here, to live here, he needs some mobility in order to achieve his goals—and the prosthetics will help with that. Besides. After almost a month stuck in bed, Alma is starting to get restless. He needs out. Which is very hard to do when Central is still looking for him, and when one is missing an arm and leg.

Bak had explained it clearly and carefully to Alma when he’d asked. The scientists can help create an alibi. They’ll assert Alma’s presence at the Branch, and the month since the massacre will help solidify Alma’s new identity. In a way, his slow healing has given them time. What would take others weeks to heal takes Alma months; they’ll assume his wounds are from something fairly recent, not from the massacre.

It’s necessary, but that doesn’t mean Alma has to like it.

Today especially is a bad day. He’s been dreading it since the moment they moved him here. Today is when he first meets the… scientists.

Alma does not have high hopes. Bak has assured him he’ll only meet with one person, for now—he’s about as worried about this as Alma is, though Alma has no idea why. But one person is still one person too many. Bak, Wong, Fo… Alma has gotten used to them, but even they make his skin crawl. They are all guilty, all liars, and just because he’s used to them doesn’t mean he likes them. Or trusts them. And the more people that learn about Alma, the more people that know him…

He’ll kill them all, if it comes to it. If that’s what he needs to do to be free, to die without complications. Alma has done this all before, and Fo may have the Innocence, but Alma doesn’t need the Innocence. Damn the Innocence, anyway. He’ll teach humanity a lesson if it’s the last thing he does, be it with God’s Crystal or a normal knife. All Alma needs is time.

But the longer the list of names grows, the harder it will be.

As the morning creeps on, Alma grows more and more nervous. His fingers pick at the sheets. He tangles the stray threads around his hand and tries his best to keep from throwing up, or God forbid, crying again.

He hears them coming before he can see them. Hurried and heavy footsteps, and far-off laughter, and then before Alma can react the door to his new room flies open.

Bak storms in, face flushed and pale in equal measure, ears burning red and teeth grit. Alma flinches back, but Bak isn’t looking at him, just stomps to one of the chairs shoved in the corner and sits down with a huff.

The laughing voice draws ever closer, and a new man bursts through the door, Fo following close behind him, her smirk wide and fierce with a mean amusement.

“Bak~” sings the newcomer, arms thrown wide and a beaming smile on his face. He says Bak’s name in a cutesy sort of drawl, drawing it out childishly. The innocent sing-song does not match the downright manic grin on his face. “I meant no offense!”

Bak turns bright red, stutters a little, then shouts “Shut up!” in a voice so high pitched it’s practically unrecognizable.

Alma looks at Bak, a man he has thus far seen as a male and more nervous version of Chief Twi, then looks back at the newcomer. His stare is shameless.

The man stares right back, not even pretending to hide his interest. His hair is dark and slicked away from his forehead, hidden under a white hat. His lab coat is more gray than white, stained with strange colors. On his nose, thin spectacles rest, and above them his dark eyes shine like new coins. He’s far older than Alma, maybe Bak’s age, but something about him makes him seem much younger.

He is dizzying in his intensity. Alma has never known a man like this. Even the most eccentric scientist in the project was subdued, quieted by the secrecy of the whole thing, but there isn’t a single thing about this man that seems in-check at all.

“Hello there!” the newcomer says brightly—too brightly, too loud, and his booming enthusiasm is so different from what Alma is used to, he can’t help but cringe away when the man’s hand is shoved in front of his face.

For a single second, the man pauses, something strange passing over his face—and then his hand pulls away, waves in the air, as if brushing something away.

“Hello,” he says again, but there is something calmer about him now, more settled, more controlled, something softer and kinder. Behind him, Fo is smiling, soft and pleased. “I am Komui! Ah, well, Komui Lee. Has Bak~” here he abruptly switches back into sing-song, drawing out Bak’s name in a teasing way that makes the man snarl from his chair, “—told you about me?”

Alma watches him warily, uncertain how to respond. “You—you’re… making the—the—” He can’t remember the name. He’s trying, but he can’t remember the name. He feels the heat climb up his cheeks.

“Prosthetics!” Komui supplies brightly. “Yes, exactly! I mean, not alone, of course—apparently I am not allowed without supervision.” He sighs, heavily, as if this is a great loss. “But! I promise you I will do my best to keep their boring close-minded hands off what will be the greatest prosthetics ever created. By me, of course.” He beams. “Now, Bak~ over here hasn’t told me anything—very rude, but, well, he’s my boss for now—”

“Act like it!” Bak mutters from the wall. Then his voice rises. “Wait, for now?!”

“—So, I will simply have to ask you myself!” Komui continues, as if Bak has not spoken. Alma watches, fascinated, eyes darting back and forth between them.

Komui merely smiles. “What’s your name?”

“Al—” At the last second, he remembers, Bak’s suddenly serious expression jolting him from the dream-like daze Komui’s entrance had wrought. “—ly.”

“Aly?” Komui repeats, and smiles again. His eyes are softer. “That’s a good name. Well, Aly—I promise to do my best for you. Let me know if you have any requests, yeah?”

Alma searches his face. Komui’s smile never falters. “…All right.”

“Me specifically,” Komui presses, leaning in as if to share a secret, on hand rising to hide his mouth from Bak. In a loud whisper that isn’t really a whisper at all, he says, “Don’t tell dear Bak, yes? He’s so boring, he might veto all of it!”

“I’m WHAT,” says Bak. Fo starts laughing.

Alma stares at him, bemused, but he can’t hold back the quick-silver smile that flashes over his face, tugging at his lips and creasing at his single eye. Komui beams, wider. He is— he is ridiculous. He is so over the top it’s dizzying, so free with his words and emotions that it doesn’t even occur to Alma to wonder if they are fake. He is just so much.

“I will,” Alma says, biting down the smile before it can grow, but unable to keep the laughter from his voice. Bak’s furious muttering suddenly hushes. Fo’s eyes are wide.

Komui Lee just smiles.

“Great!” Komui stands, spins on his heel, points at Bak. “You! I need measuring tape, pencils, a ruler—”

“Why are you pointing at me!?” Bak yells, broken from his surprised silence, and in the doorway Fo laughs and laughs, and outside a nurse is yelling out at them about the noise, and Alma— Alma can’t take it anymore. It’s been building since Komui burst in, with every time he said Bak’s name, with every instance of bright red on Bak’s face.

Alma laughs.

For the first time in months, it is not hate or pain that brings the pinprick of tears to Alma’s eyes. It is joy, joy that bursts like a firework in his chest, bright and glowing. His eye curved shut in perfect happiness, his back bent double with the force of it, Alma laughs. He laughs like he never has before, fierce and childlike, hiccupping on his laughter and shaking from head to toe. He bends so far, his forehead brushes the sheets, and he’s wheezing from the lack of air, ribs aching from the strain. His laugh is loud and bright and stuttering, and it rings out clear in the sudden silence.

And for a single shining moment, Alma is happy.

#d.gray-man #dgm #alma karma #kanda yuu #bak chang #dgm fic #fic: dreaming of flowers #iza fanfic

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lachryphage · 6 years

Text

some personal stuff about having the sads lately

This past year has been so very strange. In a lot of ways I feel like I’m working towards some sort of breakthrough with my mental health -- I have more motivation and direction and independence -- but I’ve also been saddled with an overabundance of grief.

It’s been little over a year now since I moved out of my childhood home -- a place turned sour by my parents divorce. I was running away from my father. The negative (dare I say abusive?) behaviors he once exhibited to my mother were suddenly turned on me. It was a betrayal I don’t know if I’ll ever be over. I trusted him and loved him as any child should and I still can’t believe his blatant disregard for both my mental and physical well-being.

Moving out was so difficult. I still have many boxes I haven’t unpacked. But I’m getting there, I finally have a sense of home again.

This summer I wanted to get to know my body again: give it a second chance. I went off my birth control. Doctors always told me that my horrific periods were something I would grow out of and I wanted to see if that was true. It’s been over a decade now since I started puberty; I really believe that if it were going to get better it would have by now. It didn’t. I forgot how intense the pain was and -- even worse -- the fear. I was taken to the emergency room against my will. Unable to move, barely able to speak, I had warned my mother and boyfriend that they could do nothing for me there. Doctors don’t care. They didn’t care.

My GP offered an IUD as a solution. I probably have endometriosis, but she didn’t think it was important to confirm what’s really wrong with me. I have no official diagnosis. Whatever is wrong, she insisted, it will be fixed by hormonal birth control.

I said yes to the IUD.

I don’t know if I truly regret it, but the procedure was one of the most physically and emotionally traumatic events of my life. It would leave me with pain levels barely below what I experienced on my periods and constant bleeding for two months. I was taken to the emergency room again at one point, terrified the IUD had perforated my uterus. Once again I was manhandled (actually the only kind and gentle doctor I met that day was a man, the mean ones were women) and told to deal with it.

I haven’t had a period since that endless bout of bleeding. I get minor cramps now and then, but no period. I guess that means it was worth it.

In the meantime, my joints are hurting, aching, making physical activity increasingly difficult with each passing week. My joints have apparently always sublexed but now it was hurting when they did and it was more frequent than before. Joints that I never had trouble with are now bothering me daily. My doctor cannot possibly deal with more than one symptom at a time. I had to wait for my IUD troubles to clear up before asking for help. I have a referral to genetics to see if it’s EDS but they may not accept my case. If they don’t, my doctor will have no idea what to do and will give up.

Physically, I am in pain and exhausted. But I know how to handle those. But grief? I know how to deal with depression, a feeling that comes from within, but grief, external to myself?

My Aunt Jan died. I was more similar to her than anyone else in my family, closer to her than anyone else but my mother. I knew she was dying, I told everyone and they didn’t believe me but I knew her. In the past few years, during her bouts of insanity I could understand what she was trying to say when no one else could. And she is gone. I can’t help but wish I spent more time with her and hadn’t been so obsessed with school. Because of school, I haven’t had the time to properly mourn her. So many of her things have made their way into my house.

I can still smell her. Sometimes it’s a comfort but sometimes it takes me back to that room on that night and the death rattle that I breathed in rhythm to until her very last breath.

When I was very little, I picked out a cat for my Aunt Jan from the shelter. She was older than most adoptable cats, tiny, mean, and black. She was perfect. Jan named her Little Bits.

When Jan had to move into a care facility, Little Bits Was effectively abandoned for over a year until Jan’s old house was sold. We tried to bring her into our home, but at the time we had four other cats and she hated any animal but herself. She was constantly stressed, angry, and lonely. When my mother left my father, she took Little Bits with her. Finally, those two old women found solace in one another. A month after Jan died, Little Bits died to.

My mom was out of town, we knew Little Bits was declining but my mom thought she would last another week or so. I knew she was dying. But we got test results back from the vet, pinpointing the problem, we got a prescription for her and I rushed to the vet before they closed to pick it up. I tried so hard to give it to Little Bit but she refused it. When I finally got her mouth open her breath had the Death Smell. The smell that Jan had.

Alone, in the quiet of the night, Little Bits died in my arms. I felt her body go limp, saw the light leave her eyes, heard her last tiny meows. I held her for a long time.

They were hard months. I barely even showered, I didn’t have clean clothes, and worst of all I forgot to take care of my animals. My betta’s fin rot was suddenly worse. I tried everything I knew to medicate him. He died. Was it a month ago already?

Depressed and disgustingly unhygienic, I got a UTI. I’ve had them before. Easy fix if you figure out what’s wrong before you go crazy, and I did figure it out. I took my antibiotics, I got better. But then I was so much worse. It developed into a kidney infection. Again, at the doctor, frightened and in pain. But I got better.

Last week my mom told me she has breast cancer. But the prognosis was good, it was small and they caught it early. It was still scary. I went with her to her doctor appointment this week. Turns out it’s actually further along and is very large. She has to have chemo and probably a mastectomy. My mother was crying; her hair and her breasts so vital to her sense of self. The family consensus is that I will be her primary caretaker.

My mother was layed off from her job on her birthday, only a few months after she left my father. Since then, she’s been unemployed. She’s run out of unemployment. She makes barely enough money to get by. She can’t afford the cancer treatment, but she has to have it anyway. To help ease the burden she’ll be selling the house my boyfriend and I are living in. My new home, my only sense of safety and security that I’ve had in years. We can’t afford to live anywhere else.

I am graduating in two months. I should be happy -- I think parts of me am, somewhere. I was planning on taking a BREAK. No school, no work, no responsibilities, just time to get to know myself again. Everything that brings me joy, things I define as myself, have fallen by the wayside in favor of school. Maybe finally some time to breathe, and rest, and be.

But now I must take care of my mother, I must move, and the only way to survive will be to work. Even working a low-key job that I enjoy has been too much for me, I’m sick of being to tired to think every single day! I cannot just survive anymore. What’s the fucking point if I’m just surviving? When do I get to be a person?? When do I get to live???

I am READY to create and engage with the world! Let me sew and paint and smile and read and collect and care! And I was so close! Just graduate and then I can be there. But maybe it never ends. No I must be a caretaker and a survivor.

There’s just no fucking hope anymore.

#i have been having a really really horrible time #this is very long #personal shit #if i'm out of the house for more than five hours i cannot do anything the rest of the day i'm too tired #and if i'm out of the house for even just five hours a day every weekday i do not have any energy left for the weekend #it's my maximum capacity but it still may not be enough for boyfriend and i to rent anywhere but here

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meteomma · 7 years

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°˖✧| TIDBIT MASTERPOST ON SILICA’S POKéMON |✧˖°

°˖✧| Primary Pokémon |✧˖°

°˖✧| GOGO |✧˖°

POKéMON: Garchomp Gender: Male Ability: Sand Veil Contest Specialization: Coolness

Silica met Gogo as a Gible and he was the first Pokémon she ever caught, even if through no ability of her own. Having failed to capture him initially (as well as attempting to physically wrestle him into submission), the gible decided it would be great fun to follow her for the next three days to mock her. But having strayed too far from his mountain and colony, it was a target by other Pokémon whose territory he inadvertently invaded. After Silica got hurt protecting him, he decided to stay on with her.

As he was the first and only Pokémon she had outside of the old Wobbuffet, though almost all of her team of know enough of fighting, Gogo is one of Silica’s few Pokémon specifically trained for battle outside of contests.

Gogo is very sweet on Gigi. Out of all he can be gruff or hard on, he’s very gentle with her in comparison. It tickles Silica to no end, and having her notice makes Gogo that much more grumpy

°˖✧| FAYFAY |✧˖°

POKéMON: Clefable Gender: Female Ability: Cute Charm Contest Specialization: Cuteness

Fayfay was actually one of Crystal’s early captures, caught as a Clefairy and, knowing her mother’s interest in all things cute, gave it to her on her birthday. Needless to say, Silica was beyond ecstatic and for that reason Silica is sure to take extra care of Fayfay. Additionally, for the longest time she was the one that Silica let follow her around outside of a pokeball the most in Johto, much like Zuzu is in more recent years.

Fayfay is surprisingly very fussy and vain for what’s normally seen as a famously lighthearted and timid species. After being exposed to the glitz and glamor of the Contest scenes, her standards became set exceedingly high and only seemed to become more diva-like the more victories she gains. Silica constantly has to keep an eye to make sure her ego is kept in check, having to remind her that brattiness isn’t considered that cute.

Given her star-shaped silhouette, Fayfay is often used to show Crystal her support when it comes to her moments of cheering her daughter on. Which is a good 60% of the time they’re together. Silica taught Fayfay ‘Cosmic Power’ primarily for this purpose alone.

°˖✧| MIMI |✧˖°

POKéMON: Milotic (Shiny) Gender: Female Ability: Competitive Contest Specialization: Beauty

Mimi was found by Silica as a stranded Feebas, where she was being bullied and harassed by a group of children. Silica chased them all off, however didn’t have as she didn’t find the Feebas particularly appealing either.

Mimi is the ‘straight-man’ of the group. She’s a no-nonsense girl that helps keep the others from acting out too much, and becoming temperamental at those who stray too far out of line. She also seeks to emphasize her hard-earned elegance on both land and sea, holding herself with the confidence of a queen, as she takes her role in performances and Beauty contests very seriously, and those who interfere with that also are quick to feel her ire.

She’s the fastest pokémon that Silica owns. Her training for routines has doubled as general training for speed and elegances alike, and she’s that much faster in the water.

°˖✧| BONBON |✧˖°

POKéMON: Steenee (shiny) Gender: Female Ability: Sweet Veil Contest Specialization: Cleverness

Bonbon was caught as a Bounsweet during Silica’s first trip to Alola by her former lover Otu in his earlier attempts to woo her. Having originally been unable to catch one herself due to her poor capturing ability, Otu spent several days tracking a shiny one down just for her. Because of this, despite having left him, Bonbon tends to be doted on a little more due to her emotional connection and the torch Silica still holds for her former lover.

Due to their similar appearances and coordinating color schemes, Bonbon is one of Silica’s most iconic Pokémon in the Contest circles and one of the ones most associated with her. This amplified once and was able to dress more to her preference and their appearances nearly matched.

Bonbon’s eventual evolution into Tsareena, despite Silica’s own excitement, was not well received by her audience and fanbase. They preferred Bonbon’s aesthetic and cuter look of her previous evolution, and it took time for the change to adjust by onlookers.

°˖✧| ZUZU |✧˖°

POKéMON: Azumarill Gender: Male Ability: Huge Power Contest Specialization: Toughness

Zuzu was another Pokémon caught for Silica by Crys, except instead of merely being a gift it was a statement that she had overcome her own inner trials that kept her from capturing - by catching the Azumarill she’d failed to catch in front of her mother before. Silica has doted a little extra on Zuzu mainly because he represents her daughter’s overcoming and her taking pride in it.

Zuzu probably takes the most to Silica’s upbeat contest persona, the most energetic and upbeat of the Coordinator’s team, and is the quickest and most eager in the team to match her excited energy. He can also be just as loud as her.

°˖✧| GIGI |✧˖°

POKéMON: Goodra Gender: Female Ability: Hydration Contest Specialization: None/support

Gigi was given to Silica as a Goomy as a gift from her sponsors for her progress once she rose up the ranks. Though she wasn’t thrilled at first with the gooeyness of her, she softened up considerably when told that this particular Goomy was a rescue from a previously neglectful Trainer. This coupled with her natural mothering instincts and how quickly Goomy took to her, Siica got pretty affectionate pretty quickly towards her.

Due to the poor treatment and neglect she suffered from her previous owner, Gigi’s health isn’t the best and needs a lot of attention. For this reason she never is part of official battles and rarely participates in contests herself; she acts as support for main performances or as smaller showcases. However, this also means that Gigi is the one audiences see the most of all of them. Thus primarily Gigi acts as Silica’s mascot, where it is far more low-energy in comparison to the primary team.

Though Silica herself doesn’t like being out in the rain much when she’s contest-ready, Gigi’s Hydration ability proves it good for her health and for that reason she’ll bundle up and stay outside with her in the rain while the dragon type takes all the time she needs.

°˖✧| UNNIE |✧˖°

POKéMON: Kangaskhan Gender: Female Ability: Scrappy Contest Specialization: None

While technically her Pokémon, Unnie was given to Silica as a bodyguard and is used independantly of her primary team to ensure she gets from place to place in safety. She’s the only one trained specifically for fighting and battles which makes her, aside from Gogo, arguably the strongest Pokémon currently in Silica’s possession

As Silica’s bodyguard, Unnie is the only Pokémon that is almost constantly out of her pokéball when she’s traveling. The only exception to this is when Silica isn’t dressed in her Contest persona, as her natural appearance isn’t recognized by the media.

While not technically a nickname, Silica will often call Unnie’s baby Eolin-i (read: ‘Little One’) as a term of endearment. As a fellow mother, Silica’s also the only one Unnie will allow near her baby. These two are the only ones among her team referred to in her native tongue.

°˖✧| Retired Pokémon |✧˖°

°˖✧| WOFFEE |✧˖°

POKéMON: Wobbuffet Gender: Male Ability: Telepathy Contest Specialization: None

Silica’s very first Pokémon. Woffee was actually an older Pokémon that belonged to Celestic’s elder that she accidentally stole when she ran away(she intended to steal one anyway, but one of the starters the Elder gave to new trainers, not her personal Pokémon). Silica didn’t realize her error until long after she was half way to Eterna City, but since she had gotten too far and was too stubborn to turn around to return it, she decided to keep him on.

Having gotten too old to travel too often, Woffe acts primarily as the Lynne family’s housekeeper and the caretaker for Crystal when she’s young while Silica was off working, including both cleaning and cooking in her absence. Because of his age, Silica only takes him out of the house for light exercise when Crystal isn’t home, or if she’s entering a situation where she knows she’ll be in use of his abilities.

Having a particularly strong Hidden Ability, as he trained by the Elder initially, Silica used Woffee’s telepathy ability to monitor Crystal’s well being and progress on Mount Mortar.

Another of Woffee’s abilities from being raised by the Elder is his unique use of the Destiny Bond. Rather than merely between the user and another, he can extend the ties of the ability between two separate beings other than himself and can maintain it for an inordinate amount of time. Though she won’t admit it, this is something Silica has used to protect those she cares for in past situations.

°˖✧| CHUMEE |✧˖°

POKéMON: Smoochum Gender: Female Ability: Forewarn Contest Specialization: None

Chumee was the one who found Silica, rather than the other way around, when she first arrived in Johto. Having been very pregnant with Crystal at the time, the Smoochum had taken to following her and keeping her company while she wandered through foreign territory. It was Chumee who lead her to New Bark Town, and decided to stay with her thereafter.

Having been there for her birth and spent the most time with her, Chumee was one of Crys’s primary pokémon caretakers when she was small, alongside Woffee. If Silica was at work or was resting, Chumee would be the one to escort her too and from school or the playground, and would help alongside her when shopping.

Chumee’s abilities as a psychic type are the primary reason Silica sent her alongside Crys for her training. Aside from her attacks that would allow Crys to escape any danger from other pokémon, Chumee can directly connect to Woffee via telepathy, even if not entirely steadily so, and give periodic updates back and forth. Thus allowing Silica to indirectly monitor her child’s progress.

#▌☄「 Asteria Made the Atmosphere Crack Like Fireworks 」| HEAD CANON.

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michaeljames1221 · 4 years

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