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jungkoode · 1 month ago

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THE 25TH HOUR | 10

"cognitive dissonance"

"Information overload has consequences when your brain tries to map infinity. And some revelations about intellectual competition, tongue habits, and emotional resonance tracking really shouldn't happen in the same afternoon."

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↪︎author's note : AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH IT'S HEEEREEEE it's FINALLY here. The chapter I have been holding in my evil little claws like Gollum with the ring. My precious… (ᴥ⁝ ᴥ) Okay okay okay. Deep breath. This chapter is so much. Like we are in full "this is why nobody should say anything around Noma without thinking first" territory. I've been WAITING to show you the consequences of information being mishandled around a brain like hers. And it was such a challenge to write because obviously YOU (dear reader) need to get some of this lore and intel too—but we're not in omniscient narration. We're in deep, close POV with Noma, and occasionally Yoongi, and that means there's no "as you know, Bob" exposition. That's amateur hour. Everything that comes through to you has to come through them. It has to feel lived in. Felt. Filtered. With weight. And YEAH. There's a reason I wrote it the way I did. The info needs to creep in, not be dumped on you. This chapter was a narrative challenge and a DREAM to tackle because of that. I went full evil little narrative goblin. There are crumbs. There are cracks in the wall. There is an entire buffet of lore and psychological tension here. If you don't pick up on it… I will cry. And then stab you. Lovingly. Also. That convo between Tae, Jungkook, and Yoongi? YEAH. That's not filler. That is pivotal. I needed to show how people in a massive resistance organization aren't perfectly synced or briefed. This isn't a YA chosen-one fantasy. Jungkook is a literal baby with powers he doesn't fully understand, Taehyung is a modded enforcer who doesn't register information as a threat (which is SUCH a fascinating limitation, ugh I love him), and Yoongi is the only one who has full comprehension of the consequences. The disparity is real. Organic. Messy. And necessary.

The transition leaves an aftertaste of ozone and broken physics.

One moment, you are a collection of atoms held together by sheer will and Agent Min’s grip; the next, you are solid again.

Your feet meet a floor of polished, off-white composite material that seems to absorb all sound.

Back in the resistance headquarters; your mind helpfully supplies. Back to that long, sterile corridor that stretches before you, lit by light panels that emit a flat, shadowless glow.

The raw, bleeding edge of the portal behind you pulses once, then seals itself shut with a sound like tearing fabric, leaving no trace it was ever there.

“What was that?” is your first immediate question, referring to their commentary about Jungkook’s apparent teleportation abilities.

Your processing centers demanding data to fill the void left by the impossible event. It’s directed at the back of Agent Min’s head as he walks ahead.

No answer.

Agent Min’s shoulders remain rigid, mint-colored hair looking like someone splashed watercolor in a grayscale simulation.

You can see the unnatural angle of his left shoulder, the controlled set of his jaw against what must be a significant level of pain.

But his gait suggests someone who’s done answering questions for the next seventy-three hours.

The probability he is ignoring you registers at 98.7%.

Fine. If he won't provide the data, you'll find a more willing source.

You turn your head, your gaze finding Jungkook. “What did you do?”

Jungkook’s eyes dart from you to Min’s rigid back, a flicker of conflict crossing his features. He presses his lips into a thin, unhappy line and gives a minute shake of his head.

A clear non-verbal cue: can’t.

The first spark of real frustration ignites in your chest. A low-grade thermal reaction. It’s inefficient. Annoying.

“Why is nobody telling me anything?” The question bursts out, louder than intended, echoing off the sleek, quantum-reinforced walls. Your vocal modulation is off—pitch elevated by 12%, volume spiking beyond optimal conversational levels.

You don’t care. The lack of input is suffocating, a void where data should be.

“What did he do? He mimicked my abilities, didn’t he? I registered that much. I heard it.”

The query is directed at Taehyung this time. He’s the most likely to respond, with a 43% higher probability of verbal engagement based on past interactions.

But he just lets out a long, weary sigh, the sound echoing unnaturally in the dead air of the corridor. He doesn’t reply. Instead, his hand closes around Jungkook’s forearm, and he begins walking, pulling the younger agent along with him.

Jungkook releases a sigh himself, this one loud and theatrical, a clear broadcast of his own displeasure with the mandated silence.

Your hands curl into fists, knuckles whitening under the pressure.

The sensation is odd—muscle tension at 87% of maximum capacity, a physical manifestation of something you can’t quite name.

Anger? Frustration? Both?

You’re a walking processor, a system built for logic and analysis, not this messy, bubbling surge that threatens to override your control.

But it’s there, undeniable, pushing against the edges of your restraint—you want to slam your fist into the nearest wall, propriety be damned.

Instead, you plant your feet, the soles of your boots gripping the floor with a stubborn finality.

“I require answers.” The statement is flat, cold, and absolute. “If you refuse to provide the necessary information, I will acquire it through alternative, and likely less cooperative, means.”

That does it.

Taehyung and Jungkook freeze mid-stride. Min stops a few paces ahead, his back still to you, but the tension in his shoulders makes him seem taller, more dangerous.

Your eyes, those traitors, find the mint strands of his hair—a soft, pale contrast to the harsh black of his tactical vest and jacket.

The color is striking, almost unfairly pretty, like a glitch in an otherwise monochromatic design. It distracts you for exactly 0.7 seconds before you force your focus back to his face, to those golden eyes that always seem to see too much.

“Min.”

He turns slowly, the movement measured and deliberate.

“Noma,” he begins, his voice low and grating, “you are not in an adequate headspace for a tactical debriefing.”

“I will be the judge of that.”

“No.” He takes a step toward you. “I am.”

A humorless laugh escapes you, a puff of air. “By what authority? My operational parameters are my own.”

“Not when they intersect with mine.”

“And why,” you challenge, taking a step to meet him, closing the distance, “would you have any say in what I need, or what I don’t?”

His breath hitches, a ragged, sharp intake of air that speaks of immense pressure barely contained.

It sounds like he’s holding back a scream, or venom, or wrestling with something volatile. Anger, maybe. Or something darker. You don’t know, and that lack of knowing is driving you up the wall.

He stalks toward you, his gait fluid despite the injury. Taehyung and Jungkook melt away, retreating to the periphery as if clearing the stage for a collision they know is inevitable.

He doesn’t stop until he’s so close you have to tilt your head back to meet his gaze. Inches away.

You can feel the heat radiating from him, and this time

it’s not just the ozone—but spearmint, that sharpens in the air around you. His eyes are no longer just tinged with gold; they are molten, blazing down at you.

“Because it became my choice,” he grits out, each word a shard of gravel torn from his throat.

Your own defiance rises to meet it. “I don’t recall giving you a choice.”

His jaw ticks, a violent spasm of muscle. “It became my choice the moment I had to watch you die sixteen times.”

The air vacates your lungs in a single, silent rush.

Sixteen times.

You died sixteen times.

Revival technology, temporal manipulation, parallel timelines—none of the models align with the raw certainty in his voice.

How is that possible? You’re alive. You’re here, breathing, thinking, processing data. There’s no evidence of revival technology in your medical records. No gaps in your memory that would suggest temporal manipulation. No—

If revival is possible, if you’ve died and returned multiple times, what does that mean for the fundamental laws of physics? For the nature of consciousness? For the reality you’ve been operating under?

What timeline are you even in? Or better, worse—how many have you lived through that you don’t remember?

“And I’m not letting you become a seventeen.”

He spits the last word out like poison, a final, damning verdict.

Then he turns, the motion sharp and decisive, and walks away down the corridor without a backward glance, leaving you shattered in his wake.

Jungkook and Taehyung remain stationary.

You note Taehyung’s grip on Jungkook’s arm—pressure increasing by approximately 12 newtons. Restraint behavior. But Jungkook’s eyes find yours anyway.

Then—

Something shifts inside your skull.

Not pain. Not memory. Something else entirely.

A voice that isn’t yours, speaking words that arrive without traveling through your auditory processing centers.

«Yes. It was your abilities. You control the spatial dimension.»

The transmission carries Jungkook’s vocal patterns but bypasses standard sensory input entirely—direct neural interface.

Telepathy.

He’s using Taehyung’s ability without anyone else detecting the connection.

Your gaze remains locked with his for exactly 0.7 seconds before he allows Taehyung to guide him forward.

Spatial dimension.

The words echo through your consciousness, connecting to memory fragments of golden tendrils and impossible physics. Of matter phasing and reality bending and distances that compress at your unconscious command.

Sixteen deaths. Seventeen possible.

You control space itself.

And apparently, nobody trusts you enough to explain why that matters.

The dream always starts the same way—with your hands mapping his chest like you're solving an equation.

You're above him, thighs bracketing his hips, that familiar analytical tilt to your head as you study him. Your hair falls in loose strands across your forehead, catching the low light of whatever timeline this is. Your mouth is parted just slightly, breath coming in those careful, measured gasps that drive him fucking insane.

You move like you always do—deliberate, testing, like every roll of your hips is gathering data. Like his body is some complex system you need to decode. Your palms press flat against his chest, feeling the rapid thrum of his heartbeat, cataloging the way his muscles tense beneath your touch.

"Fuck, Noma," he breathes, voice already wrecked, and you pause—just for a second—to process the sound.

That little furrow appears between your brows, the one that means you're filing away his response for later analysis.

Then you sink down on him again, slow and torturous, taking him inch by inch like you're conducting some kind of experiment. His hands move to grip your waist, but golden tendrils—yours, not his—wrap around his wrists, pinning them to the mattress above his head.

The restraint makes him growl, a sound that rumbles up from his chest. Every instinct screams at him to flip you over, to pin you beneath him and fuck you until you stop thinking so goddamn much.

But your tendrils hold firm, crystalline and unforgiving, and all he can do is lie there and take whatever pace you set.

"You're studying me," he pants, watching the way your eyes track every micro-expression that crosses his face.

"Always," you murmur, and the admission makes his cock twitch inside you. "Need to understand how you work."

You lean forward, changing the angle, and he sees stars.

Your breath ghosts across his ear as you whisper, "What does this do to you?" and roll your hips in that specific way that makes him see fucking galaxies.

His answer is a broken moan, hips bucking up involuntarily. The tendrils tighten around his wrists, a gentle warning, and you make that soft sound of satisfaction—like you've just confirmed a hypothesis.

"And this?" You clench around him, internal muscles squeezing, and his vision whites out for a second.

"Christ, Noma," he gasps, straining against the golden bonds. "Let me touch you, please—"

But you just smile, that small, secret curve of your lips that means you’re exactly where you want to be. In control. Gathering data. Driving him out of his fucking mind with the slow, methodical way you take him apart.

You ride him like you have all the time in the world, like this is your favorite puzzle to solve.

And maybe it is—maybe he’s your favorite system to understand, the one equation you never get tired of working through. The way you look at him, like he’s the most fascinating thing in any timeline, like every reaction is precious data you want to memorize.

He knows that look. It’s the same one you get when you’re completely absorbed in something you‘re obsessed with.

He’d let you study him forever if it meant keeping you here, keeping you safe, keeping you—

The orgasm builds slow and devastating, your name falling from his lips like a prayer as you work him closer to the edge with scientific rigor.

“Yoongi.”

His name in your voice, breathless and wanting, and he's gone—

He wakes with a sharp intake of breath, forearm thrown across his eyes, skin slick with sweat. His heart hammers against his ribs, the phantom sensation of your tendrils still wrapped around his wrists.

His room is dark, as usual, silent except for the climate control system.

He turns his head lazily toward the nightstand, where the digital clock glows an offensive blue: 3:47 AM.

He fucking hates that thing. Analog clocks don't mock you with their precision. They just tick, steady and reliable, marking time without judgment.

But digital clocks? They count down to the exact second when everything falls apart.

Again.

He keeps the forearm pressed against his eyes for a few more seconds, chest rising and falling in measured intervals.

In, out. Steady.

He wills his heart rate to slow, tries to sink back into sleep, back into dreams where you're safe and whole and—

His forearm jerks away from his face.

Something's wrong.

The feeling hits him like ice water in his veins, sharp and immediate.

He checks his Chrono-Sync Watch with frantic urgency, heart hammering against his ribs so hard it might crack them. The numbers blur—he doesn't give a shit about the time.

It's you. He feels it in his head, in his soul, in his fucking heart.

Something's wrong with you.

The sheets tangle around his legs as he throws himself out of bed, stumbling forward with too much momentum. His knee hits the floor hard, pain shooting up his thigh, but he doesn't stop. Can't stop. His chest is caving in on itself, lungs refusing to work properly as he runs.

Your door is already open when he rounds the corner.

Taehyung and Jungkook stand in the doorway like sentries, their faces pale in the hallway light. He darts past them without a word, shoulders clipping the doorframe.

The scene inside makes his stomach lurch.

Namjoon is on the floor, cradling your limp form against his chest. Jin kneels beside him, one hand tilting your head back, the other checking your pulse clinically.

There's blood—so much fucking blood—pooling on the concrete floor beneath you.

Your nose. It's your nose, dripping steady and relentless, painting your lips and chin crimson.

You're motionless. Completely still except for the shallow rise and fall of your chest.

His hands shake as he forces himself to breathe slowly, eyes darting around the room, cataloging details.

Your nose. Non-stop bleeding.

The telltale signal of cognitive temporal overload—too much information, too fast, your brain trying to process data it’s not ready for.

"Who told her."

His voice comes out low, barely above a whisper, but there's enough venom in it to make everyone in the room tense. Everyone except Jin, who's too absorbed in monitoring your vitals to care about the threat in Yoongi's tone.

"Who. Told. Her."

He rounds on Jungkook, whose eyes immediately dart away, guilt written across every line of his face. The kid can't even look at him.

Yoongi strides forward, rage building in his chest like a wildfire, but Taehyung steps between them.

"Yoongi."

"Move."

"Yoongi, listen—"

"Move!"

His eyes flick up to meet Taehyung's, and whatever Tae sees there makes him take a half-step back.

"He's just a kid," Taehyung says, voice steady but careful. "He's the youngest. Has only been active since timeline 715."

The bile rises in Yoongi's throat.

He's not violent—never has been. Doesn't lose his temper like this, doesn't let emotion override logic.

But if you're dead, if you fucking died for the seventeenth time because some kid couldn't keep his mouth shut—

He delivers a blow to Taehyung’s stomach. Hard. The impact sends pain shooting up his arm, and he hisses, shaking his hand.

Taehyung doesn’t even flinch.

They both know he wouldn’t. Former enforcer, body modified to withstand worse than anything Yoongi could dish out.

That’s exactly why he hit him instead of Jungkook—because Taehyung can take it, and because the kid doesn’t deserve his rage.

But someone needs to feel it. Someone needs to understand that this isn’t a fucking game.

“Feel better?” Taehyung asks quietly, not moving from his protective stance in front of Jungkook.

Yoongi’s breathing is ragged, chest heaving. “She’s bleeding out on the floor, Tae.”

“She’s not bleeding out. Jin’s got her.” Taehyung’s voice carries that enforcer-calm that always makes situations feel more controlled than they are. “And this isn’t anyone’s fault. She made a choice to push her abilities—”

“Choice?” Yoongi’s voice cracks with disbelief. “You think this was a fucking choice?”

Behind Taehyung, Jungkook’s face crumples.

“I just told her what she was doing,” he whispers. “She asked why I could grab her abilities, and I said—I said she controls spatial dimensions. That’s it. That’s all I said.”

“All you said.” Yoongi repeats the words like they taste bitter. “Do you have any idea what that means? What controlling space actually entails?”

Jungkook looks genuinely confused, eyes growing glassy. “She was already using it. When I mimicked her signature, I could feel how powerful it was, so I thought—”

“You thought what? That because you can copy abilities without consequences, everyone can handle that knowledge?”

“I don’t understand,” Jungkook says, voice breaking. “She manifested spatial manipulation during the rescue. I was just explaining what she’d already done.”

Taehyung’s jaw tightens. “He was trying to help her understand her own abilities. That’s not reckless—”

“Not reckless?” Yoongi rounds on him, eyes blazing gold. “Do you know what spatial dimension control means, Tae? Do you have any fucking clue?”

“I know it means she pushed too hard—”

“She didn’t push anything!” Yoongi explodes. “It’s called cognitive temporal dissonance, you absolute dimwit! It’s a fucking medical condition!”

Taehyung blinks, doubt creeping in his enforcer certainty for once. “What?”

“Jin?” Yoongi whips around, desperation bleeding into his voice. “Help me out here.”

Jin doesn’t look up from where he’s monitoring your pulse, voice dry as sandpaper. “Bit busy keeping her stable. Ask Joon.”

“Joon,” Yoongi turns to Namjoon, who’s still cradling your limp form. “Tell them. Tell them what cognitive temporal dissonance actually is.”

Namjoon shifts carefully, making sure your head stays supported. His voice slips into that analytical tone he uses for briefings.

“Cognitive temporal dissonance occurs when an Outlier’s consciousness is exposed to information that exceeds their current neural adaptation threshold.”

“Incongruent. She has better neural adaptation than any of us here. She should be able to process minimal information like that with ease, especially when she’s faced—”

“Jesus Christ.” Yoongi drags his hands through his hair. “It’s not minimal information Tae, it’s an entire fucking dimension of reality. When you tell someone they control space itself—not just ‘spatial manipulation,’ but the actual fabric of dimensional reality—their brain tries to comprehend the scope of that.”

Taehyung simply blinks, eyebrows furrowing. Yoongi sighs out loud, gestures wildly at your unconscious form.

“She doesn’t get headaches because she’s analyzing equations. She gets them because her human brain is trying to process the concept of controlling something infinite. Something fundamental to existence itself.”

Jungkook’s face goes white. “I… I didn’t know it was that big. When I copy abilities, they just feel like… like tools. I can use them without thinking about what they actually are.”

“Because your mimicry protects you from the full cognitive load,” Namjoon interjects softly, never taking his eyes off your vitals. “You experience abilities in ‘safe mode’—all the function, none of the existential weight.”

“But she was already using them,” Taehyung insists, clearly still struggling to categorize information as a physical threat. “How is knowing what you’re doing more dangerous than actually doing it?”

“Because doing it unconsciously is instinct. Understanding it consciously means your brain tries to map the parameters. And when the parameter is ‘I control one of the fundamental forces that governs reality’…” Yoongi gestures at the blood on your face. “This happens.”

Jungkook is sobbing now. “I thought I was being helpful. She seemed frustrated not knowing, and I just—”

“Your brain can barely fucking handle copying my temporal manipulation for seven minutes, Jungkook,” Yoongi cuts him off. “Could you handle knowing you control time itself? That every second that passes is subject to your will? That causality bends around your existence?”

The kid’s face crumples completely. “No. No, I couldn’t.”

“She’s been Outlier-aware for three days. Three fucking days. Her neural pathways are still forming the connections needed to process basic temporal awareness, and you just told her she controls space.” Yoongi’s voice breaks. “That’s like… that’s like telling someone who just learned to walk that they’re actually capable of flight. The concept is too big for a brain that’s still learning how to exist outside normal time.”

Taehyung is quiet for a long moment, his expression cycling through several configurations as his modified brain processes this new categorization of information-as-threat.

“But she’s strong,” Jungkook says desperately. “She handled manifesting the abilities—”

“Unconscious manifestation is completely different from conscious comprehension,” Namjoon explains gently. “When abilities manifest naturally, they’re filtered through instinct and necessity. When someone consciously understands the scope of what they control, their analytical mind tries to map it, test it, understand its limits.”

“And Y/N’s mind…” Yoongi’s voice is barely a whisper. “Y/N’s mind doesn’t half-ass anything. When she learns something, she learns everything about it. Every variable, every possibility, every potential application. Tell her she controls space, and her brain immediately starts trying to comprehend infinity.”

The room falls silent except for the sound of your steady breathing and Jin’s quiet monitoring.

Taehyung stares at you for a long moment in what Yoongi knows is enforcer processing—that mechanical way his brain reorganizes information when it encounters something that doesn’t fit his neural framework.

“I didn’t know,” Taehyung says finally, voice flat in that way that means his modifications are struggling with the concept. “Information overload isn’t… my brain doesn’t process it as a threat.”

Jungkook looks up at him, confusion mixing with his guilt. “What do you mean?”

“Enforcers were designed to absorb massive amounts of tactical data without psychological impact,” Taehyung explains, still staring at your unconscious form. “When you told her about spatial control, and you looked to me to see if it was dangerous…I literally couldn’t register it as harmful. To me, it’s just information. Like learning the time of day.”

“Yeah, that’s why you thought she was being reckless instead of recognizing she was having a medical emergency.” Jin sighs loudly.

Taehyung nods slowly, that mechanical processing still evident in his movements. “I thought she chose to push herself with new abilities. My programming doesn’t… it doesn’t understand how knowing something can hurt you.”

“Because it can’t hurt you,” Namjoon adds quietly. “Your modifications make you immune to information-based trauma. You could learn you control reality-warping abilities the same way you’d process a weather report.”

Jungkook makes a broken sound. “It’s my fault. When Tae didn’t react like it was dangerous, I thought it meant it wasn’t.”

“No, it’s my fault.” Taehyung runs a hand over his face, frustration bleeding through calm. “I keep thinking there should have been warning signs. Behavioral indicators. But information processing doesn’t trigger my threat assessment protocols. I should have deferred to Yoongi, should’ve known better than to let Jungkook make that call.”

“We all should have known better,” Jin speaks up without looking away from your vitals. “But beating ourselves up won’t fix her brain chemistry.”

Yoongi kneels beside you, careful not to disturb Jin’s positioning.

Your face is pale, dried blood still crusted around your nose, but your breathing is steady.

“Next time,” he says quietly, “any questions about abilities, about the past, about anything—you come to me first. Both of you. No matter how harmless it seems.”

“Understood,” Taehyung says, slipping into that formal tone his enforcer training defaults to during protocol establishment.

Jungkook just nods, still crying softly.

Yoongi reaches out toward your face, then stops himself, hand hovering in the air between you.

Even like this—unconscious, vulnerable, bleeding from cognitive overload—he can’t quite bring himself to touch you.

Not when you don’t remember choosing to let him.

Particles of light drift together like puzzle pieces finding their home.

The ceiling materializes above you—unfamiliar angles, different shadows. Not your assigned quarters. Not even the sterile white of Jin's lab space.

This ceiling has character, personality. Warm lighting fixtures instead of clinical panels. Personal touches that speak of actual habitation rather than temporary assignment.

Your processing centers catalog the discrepancies while your vision sharpens from static to clarity.

The bed beneath you is softer than regulation standard, sheets that smell like fabric softener instead of industrial detergent.

Someone's personal space, then.

But whose?

Voices carry from somewhere beyond your field of vision, muffled by distance and what sounds like architectural features—columns, maybe, or room dividers.

"—absolutely ridiculous, Hoseok. She's not our responsibility."

"Where else is she supposed to go? Her room's a biohazard zone.”

A scoff. “So we’re the charity case now? It’s not fair to us, Fuyu. Why not just stick her in Jin’s lab?”

“Because Jin’s not a doctor, Jimin. He’s a memory tech. He doesn’t want her in there while he’s running diagnostics. She needs rest, not a front-row seat to his data streams.”

A pause. The sound of someone pacing, footsteps sharp against what must be concrete flooring.

"Yoongi's room, then. He's the one who—"

A sigh from Hoseok. “You know the protocol he set for this cycle, Jimin. Minimum proximity. No unnecessary contact. He’s trying a different variable; we have to respect that.”

“Respect it? He’s miserable. And right now his misery is sleeping in our bed.” There’s a sound of restless pacing. “I don’t want her here. It’s bad enough we have to watch him self-destruct from a distance, I don’t need a front-row seat to the cause of it.”

“She’s not the cause, Jimin. She’s the… focus. And you know as well as I do she can’t be in his space. Even without the distance protocols, she just went through a neural fissure. The least she needs right now is more cognitive strain.”

Your head turns slightly, seeking the source of the conversation, though the movement sends a dull ache through your skull—not the sharp, stabbing pain of cognitive overload, but the lingering throb of neural exhaustion.

"She could trigger memory fragments just by being in his space," the first voice continues, petulant. "Fine. But that doesn't mean she has to be in ours."

"It's temporary, Mochi. A few days at most."

"A few days of what? Pretending we're running a halfway house for temporally displaced analysts?"

Footsteps approach, and a figure emerges from behind what you now see is indeed a decorative column. Orange hair catches the warm lighting, and Jung Hoseok's face comes into view. His expression shifts from mild exasperation to something softer when he notices your open eyes.

"Oh. You're awake."

You manage a nod, the motion careful and measured. Your vocal cords feel scratchy, unused.

"Well," he says, hands finding his hips, "you really know how to put on a show, huh?"

A scoff of laughter accompanies the words, but there's genuine concern in his eyes. He sighs, the sound carrying relief and residual worry in equal measure.

He walks toward the bed, movements easy and unhurried. "How are you feeling? Scale of one to ten, with ten being 'ready to manipulate dimensional reality' and one being 'please keep the lights dim.'"

"Somewhere around a four," you manage, voice rougher than expected. "Maybe a three-point-seven."

"Specific. I like that." He settles into a chair beside the bed, leaning forward slightly. "Any nausea? Dizziness when you move your head?"

"Minimal. Cognitive processing feels... sluggish. Like running diagnostics through damaged circuits."

"That's normal after what you went through. Jin says your neural pathways are basically reorganizing themselves. Building new connections to handle the information load."

You process this, filing it away with the growing collection of data about your condition.

"Why am I here? In your room?"

"Because everywhere else was either contaminated, occupied, or specifically off-limits."

Pink hair like cotton candy ambushes your vision next, familiar, snappy voice joining the conversation. Jimin appears from behind the same column, arms crossed.

"Lucky you." Jimin’s tone carries enough sarcasm to power a small generator.

"Your room's got blood all over the floor," Hoseok explains, shooting Jimin a warning look. "Jin's lab isn't set up for overnight stays. And Yoongi..." He trails off, diplomatic.

"Yoongi's being a dramatic bitch," Jimin finishes, not bothering with diplomacy. "So you get to camp out here. In our space. With our things."

"Jimin."

"What? She should know what she's signing up for." Jimin's gaze finds yours, walking until he’s next to Hoseok. "This is the biggest room, so we've got a spare bed set up in the back area. But don't expect us to tiptoe around your delicate temporal sensibilities."

You blink, processing the implications. "Meaning?"

"Meaning," Jimin continues, deadpan, "if you hear sounds at night, you can suck it up. I'm not putting my sex life on hold just because we have a houseguest."

"We can be considerate for a few days," Hoseok sighs.

"Absolutely not." Jimin's response is immediate and firm. "What if two days become three? Become five? You know how Yoongi gets.”

His fingers trail down the front of Hoseok’s shirt, a deliberate, slow movement that draws attention to the motion. His eyes flick from his own hand to Hoseok's face, intentionally loaded.

“And you know how I get.”

Hoseok's hand moves to catch Jimin's wrist, stopping the downward trajectory. He licks his lips, head tilting in what looks like a silent plea.

Jimin's eyebrows furrow in response, and you realize you're witnessing an entire conversation conducted through micro-expressions and body language.

A communication system developed through intimacy and time, that you somehow, suddenly, crave.

You clear your throat. "I can handle background noise. My auditory processing filters are quite efficient."

Jimin jerks his hand away from Hoseok’s grip, snapping back to full irritation mode.

“I’ll take that as a challenge,” he says, rolling his eyes as he starts walking away.

He pauses, looking back over his shoulder with an expression that clearly expects you to follow.

Hoseok offers his hand, palm up—steady, warm. You take it, more out of protocol than necessity.

Your legs hold, but the world still lags half a step behind your movements.

He keeps pace beside you, easy and patient, while Jimin moves ahead with the attitude of someone eager to put distance between himself and the problem.

“Thanks,” you say, voice low.

It’s the kind of word that feels strange in your mouth, like you’re borrowing someone else’s language for a moment.

Hoseok glances down at you, one eyebrow raised. “For what?”

You keep your gaze ahead, watching Jimin’s back.

“Allowing me a place to stay. Even when your partner is clearly… less than enthusiastic about it.”

He snorts, the sound soft but genuine. “I’m not gonna insult your intelligence by pretending Jimin’s thrilled. You’d see right through it anyway. And I’d be lying.”

You nod, cataloguing the honesty.

Hoseok’s direct, but not unkind.

“He understands the need, though. Even if he hates the idea.”

You allow the silence to settle. Two seconds pass—long enough for discomfort to threaten, short enough to feel intentional.

“I asked him last time if he dislikes me.”

Hoseok’s lips twitch. “And?”

“He said yes.”

He laughs again, louder this time, shaking his head. “That’s Jimin for you. He doesn’t sugarcoat.”

You blink, parsing the statement. “Is that… typical?”

“Very.” He grins, then sobers a little. “He’s honest to a fault. If he doesn’t like you, he’ll tell you. If he does, you’ll know. There’s no in-between with him.”

You blink, trying to process the humor. “Why does he hate me?”

Hoseok’s gaze drops to the floor, mouth curving into a half-smile.

“It’s not hate. It’s… frustration. This whole mess has been rough on everyone, but Jimin��he takes things personally. Holds onto them. It’s just how he is.”

You nod, not sure you understand, but the explanation feels sufficient.

Maybe you don’t need to understand all the variables to accept the outcome.

The corridor opens up into a space that could pass for a boutique if not for the utilitarian racks and rows of tactical gear.

Jimin is already there, hand braced on the edge of a table, posture radiating impatience.

“Welcome to heaven,” he says, deadpan, not bothering to look back as he starts sorting through hangers with practiced flicks of his wrist.

“What is he doing?” you ask Hoseok.

Hoseok moves to a nearby section, fingers trailing through what appears to be a collection of coats. The fabric makes soft sounds under his touch—silk, wool, materials your tactile processors can identify even from a distance.

“Prepping you for your next mission.”

You narrow your eyes slightly. “I was not informed there was a mission.”

Jimin doesn’t look up from the rack he’s browsing. “Right. Because you were unconscious. Bleeding from your face. Kind of hard to deliver briefings in that condition.”

“That would imply poor timing on your part,” you say dryly. “Or an urgent operation being executed under suboptimal readiness conditions.”

Hoseok exhales—an audible, weighty thing. “It’s not ideal, but it’s happening. And you’re the only one who can do it.”

Your gaze drifts to the gown Jimin is holding, then back to Hoseok. “You’re sending someone who just experienced cognitive collapse into a mission requiring social infiltration?”

Jimin finally lifts his eyes, voice clipped. “Welcome to the resistance. We don’t have backups. We have probabilities.”

“That is not an explanation,” you counter. “It’s a deflection. Explain the mission parameters and the rationale behind assigning me.”

“Okay, before you go all ‘I demand answers’ on us, let me remind you—you just had a huge temporal dissonance episode. We will not be giving you new, life-altering info like Jungkook did.” Jimin snaps back. “Accept that first or there will be no answers.”

You narrow your eyes at him.

Curiosity demands answers.

Jimin demands accepting uncertainty.

Not accepting will result in no answers at all.

Plausible compromise.

“I accept.”

Hoseok rubs the back of his neck. “There’s a gala. High-level CHRONOS operatives. Important enough to warrant surveillance. We need eyes inside. Preferably someone who won’t trip alarms just by walking in.”

Your mind catches on the phrasing. “Yoongi.”

Jimin snorts under his breath.

You glance at him. “This is about Agent Min.”

“Of course it’s about Agent Min,” Jimin mutters. “He’s the only one who can get in without being flagged. You know that.”

“Because he disrupts CHRONOS’s detection systems,” you recall. “He reflects causality. Appears unindexed. A statistical blindspot.”

Hoseok nods. “Exactly. But using his ability too long causes fluctuations. Even Yoongi’s signature starts to spike.”

You blink. “So you need a stabilizer.”

“You,” Jimin says flatly.

You frown. “I stabilize his temporal signature?”

“You synchronize with it,” Hoseok corrects. “Your presence keeps both of you from triggering scans.”

Like on the rooftop.

Jimin crosses his arms. “And with CHRONOS agents watching everything? Even a small spike gets flagged.”

You nod once, calculation already forming behind your eyes. “So I’m the stabilizer. Redundancy protocol.”

“More like failsafe,” Hoseok mutters. “You’re the only one who keeps him from unraveling.”

“And vice versa,” Jimin adds. “You two stabilize each other.”

You don’t remember practicing synchronization. You don’t remember learning how to do it. But your body does.

You remember Yoongi’s presence—how time slows when he’s near, but never quite slips. You remember the way the air holds still when he stands too close.

And how your temporal signatures synchronized to 0% on that rooftop.

“I see,” you say. But you don’t see, not really, because— “Why not assign Jungkook as the stabilizer? Have him mimic Min’s ability to stabilize himself.”

A beat of silence.

“Should I…?” Hoseok prompts, looking for Jimin’s eyes.

“It’s basic info. She already knows Jungkook’s mimicry and some scope of what Yoongi can do.” He replies. Looks at you again. “It doesn’t work like that, Yoongi’s stabilization doesn’t work on himself. He anchors other people, sure, but he can’t anchor himself.”

You frown. “But why? If his ability can neutralize temporal spikes, why doesn’t it neutralize his own?”

Jimin’s jaw tics. “Because it simply doesn’t, okay? We’ve seen it. Firsthand. When he spikes, he spirals. No one can pull him back unless you’re—”

He cuts himself off, lips tightening.

You wait. He doesn’t finish.

Hoseok clears his throat gently. “His ability reflects outward. It doesn’t fold inward. He’s a buffer for others, not for himself. And if the pressure’s high enough… he unravels.”

“And Jungkook can’t hold his ability long enough anyway,” Jimin adds, apparently returning to safe grounds. “Mimicking heavy abilities drains him fast. Which is why he wouldn’t be able to mimic yours for long either—and you’d have to be present anyway. So.”

Your brain ticks through the logic—matching memory to data to anomaly.

And then it clicks.

“The travel spot,” you murmur. “When I lost stability. Jungkook—he was mimicking Min’s ability when he stabilized me.”

Hoseok nods once.

Jimin scoffs. “Look at her, she can actually process info slowly and make her own answers through assumptions. Who would have thought?”

Hoseok ignores his partner’s commentary. “Jungkook was able to do it for a few seconds. Long enough to suppress the spike and get you through.”

“He seemed fine afterward.”

“He was,” Jimin says. “It was under a minute. Well within what he can handle. But he still can’t sustain it for long periods of time.”

“That’s… inefficient,” you murmur. “Reliant on replication. He’s not a constant.”

“Exactly,” Hoseok says, voice quiet. “But you are.”

You process the implications.

Yoongi: a walking temporal singularity with no internal stabilization.

You: the only Outlier whose temporal signature resonates with his to perfection.

Together, you cancel out the spikes.

Together, you are balanced.

A paradox in perfect sync.

It seems deliberate.

Jimin breaks the silence. “Look, I don’t care if you’re barely recovered. You’re his anchor. That’s why it’s you.”

You look down at the dress again. “And if something goes wrong?”

Hoseok shrugs. “Then you sync with him.”

Jimin huffs. “Better keep the ticking bombs contained.”

You nod once, the weight of the truth settling over your shoulders like armor.

“Understood,” you say. “I’ll be ready.”

Jimin eyes you, skeptical. “Physically, maybe. Emotionally? I’d bet against it.”

“Emotions are statistically irrelevant to mission success,” you reply.

Jimin just snorts. “Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”

You watch Jimin aggressively pull out another hanger.

Your mind immediately drifts back to resource allocation within this resistance base.

“May I ask how does this organization acquire such resources? This collection suggests significant financial investment or alternative acquisition methods.”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “Yeah, that’s safe info. Shouldn’t trigger any significant memory bleeds. The problem is usually with information you are not consciously aware of.”

Hoseok chuckles, pulling a velvet jacket off a rack. “Let’s just say my network of ‘friends’ in unregulated territories have eclectic taste. We trade in information and temporal contraband—unregulated timepieces, pre-war historical records, that sort of thing. They help us, we help them stay off CHRONOS’s radar.”

“And sometimes,” Jimin adds with a smirk, not looking up from a silk blouse, “CHRONOS just conveniently ‘loses’ a shipment of luxury goods. Taehyung has a knack for manipulating their inventory logs.”

“So formal wear is necessary for this gala.”

Hoseok chuckles. “It’s a social infiltration. High-security event, lots of important people, very specific dress code.”

“Define ‘very specific.’”

“Black tie,” Jimin says, returning his attention to the dress in his hands. He holds it up, studying the cut with professional interest. “Which means floor-length gowns, designer labels, and the kind of jewelry that costs more than most people’s annual salary.”

“I don’t own formal wear.”

“Obviously.” Jimin’s tone suggests this is the most ridiculous statement he’s ever heard. “That’s why you’re here instead of standing around looking helpless.”

“Jimin’s got an eye for this stuff,” Hoseok adds, moving to examine a section of what appears to be evening wear. “Fashion, style, making people look like they belong in places they definitely don’t belong.”

“Mhm,” Jimin hums, pulling another dress from its hanger. This one is milky white, with beading that catches the light. “The right outfit can make you invisible, or it can make you the center of attention. Depends on what the mission requires.”

“And what does this mission require?”

Jimin pauses, dress still in his hands, and looks at you directly for the first time since you entered the space.

“That depends on whether you can handle being someone you’re not for an entire evening.”

"I seem to follow that particular directive quite well," you observe, processing the implications. "Being someone I don't know I am appears to be my default operational state."

The words emerge as simple factual analysis, but Jimin's hands still on the fabric he's examining. He turns slowly, fixing you with a look that could strip circuits.

"I had just forgotten how analytically cunty you can be."

You blink, head tilting slightly as your processing centers attempt to parse the statement.

"Define ‘cunty’."

"Girl." Jimin's voice drops into a register that tells you his patience has officially expired. "I've seen you and Yoongi's version of foreplay. Very semantic, very 'I'm such a genius and I'm gonna demonstrate my intellectual superiority through vocabulary precision and get you horny whilst doing it,' so don't even try me."

Your optical processors stutter for exactly 0.4 seconds.

"I don't understand that reference."

"Of course you don't." Jimin returns to his clothing analysis with renewed vigor, pulling a cordovan dress from its hanger and holding it up to the light. "Because your brain conveniently resets every time you figure out that your analytical observations are sometimes intellectual dirty talk."

Hoseok makes a sound that might be a suppressed laugh. "Jimin."

"What? I'm stating facts." Jimin's tone carries that particular sharpness that means he's building momentum.”Yoongi’s already interrupted her twice when she starts with their whole intellectual play kink. She already knows she does this thing where she breaks down complex systems using precise technical language, and somehow makes equations sound like pillow talk. It's very specific. Very her."

"That sounds highly improbable," you say, though something in your neural pathways flickers—a ghost sensation, like muscle memory for conversations you've never had.

"Improbable." Jimin repeats the word with theatrical precision, mimicking your inflection. "See? There it is. Nobody says 'highly improbable' when they mean 'unlikely.' But you do, because your brain processes everything like it's conducting peer review on reality itself."

He moves to another section, pulling what appears to be an evening gown with a thigh cut.

"And apparently, certain people find that incredibly attractive. Which says concerning things about their psychological profiles, but here we are."

Your arms cross in front of your chest. "I don't recall engaging in any behavior that could be classified as—"

"Intellectual seduction?" Jimin supplies helpfully. "No, you wouldn't. Because every time you remember how to weaponize your brain for romantic purposes, CHRONOS hits the reset button."

Hoseok steps closer, clearing his throat. "Maybe we should focus on the mission parameters."

"Oh, we are." Jimin’s scoff is loud. “Because watching her figure out how to be someone else while simultaneously being exactly herself is going to be the entertainment highlight of this entire operation."

You process this information for 2.3 seconds before responding.

"Mission success probability increases when operatives maintain behavioral consistency within acceptable deviation parameters."

"There it is again." Jimin gestures at you with the dress still in his hands. "That sentence could have been 'I work better when I can still be myself,' but no. You chose the academic route. Every single time."

"Because precision in communication reduces misunderstanding and increases operational efficiency."

"And because you think being smart is sexy," Jimin adds, deadpan. "Which, according to my observations across multiple timelines, is apparently correct. At least for certain mint-haired individuals with concerning attachment issues."

Your mouth opens, then closes, processing algorithms struggling with the concept that analytical precision could be interpreted as flirtation.

Hoseok clears his throat. "Should we maybe start with sizing measurements?"

"Excellent suggestion," you say, grateful for the redirect to practical considerations. "Accurate dimensional data will ensure proper garment fit and reduce probability of mission compromise due to wardrobe malfunction."

Jimin stares at you for exactly three seconds, then turns to Hoseok.

"I rest my case."

“Could you provide specific examples of this alleged intellectual foreplay, though?” you ask, genuinely curious about the behavioral patterns being attributed to you. “I find the correlation between semantic precision and sexual arousal to be statistically unlikely.”

Jimin’s eyes close for exactly 2.7 seconds—a clear indicator of someone gathering patience.

“I’m not doing this right now.”

Hoseok, however, releases a delighted cackle that echoes off the boutique walls. “Oh, this is perfect. She doesn’t even realize she’s doing it.”

“Doing what, specifically?” You tilt your head, awaiting clarification.

“The way you two go at each other,” Hoseok grins, settling against a nearby rack like he’s preparing for storytime. “It’s not about complimenting each other’s intelligence. It’s the competition. The verbal sparring. Like in Timeline 289—you spent forty-seven minutes deconstructing his temporal cascade theory just to prove you could find a flaw in his logic.”

“That seems like standard peer review protocol,” you observe.

“Except it ended with him pinning you against a whiteboard while you tried to explain quantum entanglement with his tongue down your throat.”

You blink, processing this information. Your core temperature rises by 0.3 degrees.

“Or Reset 12,” Hoseok continues, clearly enjoying himself. “When you corrected his pronunciation of ‘dirigible’ during a mission briefing and somehow that turned into a three-hour debate about linguistic evolution that had the conference table creaking by the end.”

“Hoseok, please stop,” Jimin interjects, but his voice lacks real conviction.

“She asked for examples,” Hoseok defends, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Remember Timeline 467? The great coffee temperature optimization argument? They literally got into a screaming match about thermodynamics that ended with—”

“I get it,” you interrupt, though your analytical centers are spinning. “You’re suggesting that intellectual competition serves as our primary arousal mechanism.”

“Not just competition,” Hoseok clarifies. “It’s specifically when you try to out-genius each other. When you go all ‘actually, your calculation failed to account for these seventeen variables’ and he responds with some devastating counterpoint that makes you recalculate everything you thought you knew.”

You consider this data carefully.

“That does align with certain observations. When Agent Min dismissed my temporal analysis with a condescending partial smile in the alley, I did experience a statistically significant increase in heart rate.”

“There it is,” Jimin mutters, pulling dresses with increasing aggression.

“It’s particularly pronounced when he does that slight smirk—0.3 millimeter lift of the right corner of his mouth—while explaining why my analysis is incomplete.” You pause, accessing the memory. “I find myself wanting to… dispute his conclusions. Though I attributed it to simple frustration at the time.”

“It’s never simple with you two,” Hoseok laughs. “It’s this elaborate dance where you’re both trying to prove you’re the smartest person in the room, and somehow that translates directly to—”

“Choose a dress,” Jimin interrupts loudly, shoving the navy blue gown in your direction. “This one. Backless. Navy. Will complement your features.”

You take the dress, examining the fabric. “This one is structurally sound. The open back allows for optimal movement and ventilation.”

Hoseok wiggles his eyebrows. “And easy access.”

“Hobi.” Jimin warns.

“I doubt ‘easy access’ is needed. Agent Min has made it very clear that he refuses skin contact with me.”

Jimin straightens. “For the love of everything that’s holy—do not make skin contact.”

You nod, thoughtful. “Noted. Though with this cut, the probability of skin contact is high.”

“It’s not, because he will be wearing gloves like he always is.” Jimin interjects. “So just behave and don’t think about his big sexy brain.”

“I do find his brain appealing.”

Hoseok is practically vibrating with glee. “Oh, and that’s not even talking about the tongue thing.”

You freeze mid-examination of the dress. “What tongue thing?”

“HOSEOK.” Jimin makes a strangled sound.

“You haven’t noticed yet?” Hoseok looks genuinely shocked. “But you mention it every timeline! It’s like your sexual Achilles heel.”

“Define ‘tongue thing.’”

Jimin lunges for Hoseok. “Don’t you dare—”

“When he’s thinking really hard,” Hoseok dodges easily, still grinning, “he does this thing where he’ll bite it to the side. Or lick the corner of his lip. Sometimes he’ll just let it rest against his teeth while he’s processing something complex.”

Your memory banks immediately scroll through recent interactions, isolating relevant footage.

The briefing room. The coffee shop. That moment when he’d been calculating trajectories, pink tongue darting out to wet his lower lip while his eyes went distant with thought.

Oh.

“Fascinating,” you breathe, skin temperature rising 0.3 degrees. “I hadn’t consciously catalogued that behavior pattern, but reviewing my memory files… I need to pay closer attention to that.”

“No, you don’t.” Jimin groans. “What you need to do is try on the dress. Think about fabric. Think about thread count. Think about anything except—”

“The way his jaw tightens when I successfully identify flaws in his logic?” you supply helpfully. “Or how his pupils dilate by approximately 32% when I use technical terminology to dismantle his arguments? Or the specific angle his tongue—”

“This isn’t funny,” Jimin snaps at Hoseok, who is now doubled over with laughter. “You know what happens when she gets like this. He’s going to feel it, and then—”

A sharp beep cuts through the air. Jimin’s Chrono-Sync Watch lights up with an incoming message. He glances down, face draining of color.

“Fuck.”

“What?” Hoseok leans over to look.

Jimin holds up his wrist, displaying the text in glowing blue letters:

𝐌𝐢𝐧: 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚒𝚜 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗.

“Feel what?” you ask, but Jimin is already shaking his head.

“Nothing. Nothing at all. Just—” He gestures wildly at the dress. “Try this on. Make sure it fits. Don’t think about intellectual superiority or competitive dynamics or anyone’s tongue doing anything whatsoever.”

“That seems like an unreasonable request given the neural pathways that have now been activated,” you observe. “I’ll likely spend the next 3-7 hours involuntarily cataloging Agent Min’s linguistic microexpressions.”

“Which is exactly what I was trying to avoid,” Jimin mutters, then louder: “Dressing room. Now. Before this gets worse.”

“How could it get worse?” you ask with genuine curiosity.

Jimin and Hoseok exchange a look—Jimin’s expression screaming ‘don’t you dare’ while Hoseok’s radiates pure mischievous delight.

“Well,” Hoseok starts, and Jimin immediately throws a shoe at him.

Another buzz. Another message.

𝐌𝐢𝐧: 𝙴𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚝 𝟹𝟺𝟸%. 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙.

“Fuck,” Jimin breathes. “He’s tracking percentages now.”

“He can quantify emotional resonance?”

“Of course that’s what you focus on,” Jimin mutters. “Yes, he can tell exactly how aroused you are, probably down to the fucking decimal point. Which means he knows you’re up here having revelations about wanting to fuck his brain out.”

“The phrase ‘fuck his brain out’ seems anatomically impossible—”

“Stop saying the word ‘fuck’, stop thinking about tongues, brains and how hot it makes you when Yoongi is being intelectually challenging to you.”

“That’s paradoxical. Telling someone not to think about something guarantees—”

“I know how cognitive psychology works,” Jimin interrupts. “Just. Try. Please. Before he decides to come investigate why you’re suddenly thinking about his doctorate in temporal physics.”

“He has a doctorate?” Your interest sharpens immediately. “What was his dissertation on?”

A third buzz.

𝐌𝐢𝐧: 𝟹𝟺𝟽%. 𝙸’𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗.

“I’M NOT TELLING YOU,” Jimin practically screams. “THAT’S EXACTLY THE KIND OF THING THAT LEADS TO PROPERTY DAMAGE.”

Hoseok is now laughing so hard he’s crying, collapsed against the table. “She doesn’t even remember why she’s attracted to him but she’s already ready to throw down about academic credentials. This is AMAZING.”

You take the navy dress, mind already calculating the statistical probability of Agent Min doing that specific tongue movement they mentioned during the upcoming mission.

The calculation suggests 87.3%.

Your core temperature rises another 0.4 degrees.

Behind you, Hoseok’s laughter echoes through the boutique while Jimin mutters something that sounds suspiciously like “he’s going to fucking kill me.”

if you liked this chapter, please consider buying me a coffee!! ♡'･ᴗ･'♡

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seahorsepencils · 2 months ago

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I 100% believe that Nathan Fielder made a deliberate choice in focusing the episode around footage of him interacting with two autism "advocates" who are ultimately ableist and reductive in their understanding of autism. A congressman who doesn't even know what masking is, and an advocacy organization founder who uses outdated tests and won't acknowledge that not-autistic folks might benefit from rehearsing difficult social situations? That's not an accident.

If you look up Doreen Granpeesheh, you'll see that she is known for promoting the idea of autism "recovery," and that she has a history of publicly supporting the claim that there's a link between vaccines and autism. Her Wikipedia page makes very clear that she is a problematic figure whose work has been critiqued, and that she should not be taken seriously. Fielder, along with his writers and producers, would have known her reputation when booking her for the show.

A screenshot from Granpeesheh's website. Yes, it would appear she is actually proud of this headline.

And I think he's using the meeting with Cohen as a commentary on how autistic folks (and minoritized people in general, most likely) are treated by people in authority. Instead of masking and politely leaving the room, instead of picking up signals that Cohen is wrapping up the meeting without wanting to announce he's doing it on camera, Fielder purposely doesn't "take the hint" so that Cohen has to flounder and keep trying to wrap up the meeting in a way that is ultimately vague, dismissive, and rude. The longer the audience has to sit and watch that dynamic play out, the more likely we are to recognize Cohen as the bad guy in the situation rather than Fielder. It's brilliant.

And it's the exact same strategy he's using by spending the first half of the season ostensibly focusing on the first officer in those cockpit interactions, while deliberately giving screen time to guys like the "banned from every dating app" pilot to make it clear who is actually the source of the problem (and to hopefully trigger an FAA sexual harassment investigation in that one instance). In all three of these situations, he's showing us how a problematic person in power holds all the cards and is unwilling to budge.

I know there are differing opinions on what aspects of the show and his character are exaggerated or performed. As a very self-aware autistic comedy writer, this is my assessment: I think he's semi-deliberately not filling silences with masking behaviors, and asking questions he probably knows are uncomfortably direct, to create a space where others (often the neurotypical folks in these situations) have no choice to fill in the silence, which ultimately makes them say or do something relevant. I think he also acts like an unaware, unbiased observer in situations where he has a strong idea of what's going on. So whenever he says "I didn't know why" or "I didn't understand," he probably mostly does know and understand, but he knows that performing the role of an unbiased observer is a stronger strategic choice to get his message across.

He's basically playing the role of a journalist who knows that two of the most effective tools in his toolkit are a) silence when he wants a subject to reveal crucial information, and b) an "unbiased" narrative frame that makes the audience feel as if they're coming to a conclusion on their own, rather than being told what to think.

It's a nuanced approach but I think it's a smart one, especially considering that autistic-coded folks are very easily dismissed when speaking truth to power. And yeah, he's not gonna get his Congressional hearing. But pointing a camera at the problem and airing it for a massive audience, while saying "Me? I don't have an agenda; this data just presented itself in response to my neutral, unbiased question" is a pretty autistic—and often effective—approach to problem-solving.

#the rehearsal #nathan fielder #meta #the rehearsal spoilers #autism #journalism #my writing

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indiaalphawhiskey · 24 days ago

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Hi India, sorry if this comes like I’m looking for reassurance or anything… I’m just going through the first stunts after being away for a long time.

When McDomilson started, it was a little rough, but I brushed it off pretty quickly and didn’t give it more weight than it deserved because I was like, “Louis is gay, this isn’t real.” And it’s always been that way with Louis, even when bng happened, I’ve always felt sure about him.

But with Harry, it’s different. Like, when I saw that recent video, I swear it hit me harder. At first, it just felt like an emotional ouch, and then my brain went straight to, “maybe he is with her, he looks happy dancing,” “maybe he’s not gay,” stuff like that. And I know it sounds absurd, especially because I’ve been around since at least 2014.

And I thought it was just me — but I’ve seen a lot of people express this kind of doubt specifically when it comes to Harry. I guess it’s because a big chunk of Louis' fandom is queer and sees right through the bullsh*t, but Harry’s public image is so shaped by the media — 90% of people either project the “boyfriend fantasy” onto him and see him as a womanizer. That image holds more weight, and now that Harry’s gotten so famous, it creates even more distance between the people who’ve been here a long time and him.

And I just feel really bad for doubting him, India.

So I wanted to ask: why do you think that happens ? And have you ever had doubts about Harry? And what would you recommend I do when I feel like this? Thank you for your time💛

Hey, love!

I've written about half a novel's worth on think pieces regarding the perception around Harry - both by the public and by the fandom - but I'm a terrible archivist so of course I can't link anything, so I'll make this short and sweet. (Famous last words.)

You said you've been away for awhile, and I don't know how long that is, but personally, after having lived through Olivia Wilde, I'm pretty numb to Harry stunts. That was suuuuuuuch a shitshow, and she was so infuriating, and the narrative around them was so cringe that my tolerance for anything less than whatever that crapshoot was just skyrocketed.

But, if you're asking for a more wholistic answer (which I think you are), I think you and I fundamentally disagree on two things:

1) Harry didn't look like he was having fun to me, and honestly, he never does. That kiss - faces as distanced as humanly possible and completely upright to make sure everyone got a clear view of who he was, and eventually, who she is - screams 'sigh. Another day at the salt mines.' That is not how you kiss a budding romantic interest. That's not even how you kiss a drunken one night stand. He looks like he's a breath away from counting Mississippis out loud.

And that's the thing - the only time I've seen Harry truly enjoy his time with women is when they're clearly in a platonic relationship. Family, friends, co-workers, creative collaborations, artists he looks up to... I mean, the guy bought a dulcimer to be more connected to Joni Mitchell. With that amount of passion, you'd think he could muster enough strength to cross a bridge in Civita without looking like he wanted to fling himself off it.

The truth is, we've seen Harry be so interested and in the moment with so many women, just not the ones he's supposedly in relationships with or the ones the tabloids/GP are interested in. And that's what sets us apart from the GP -- we actually have fifteen years of data, and it should mean that it's easier for us not to have such difficulty with object permanence when it comes to Harry.

Which leads me to:

2) Harry is so steeped in queer culture, it's hard for me to even fathom him as straight. From the dedication to flying the rainbow flag at his concert every single night, to wearing a rainbow pin in his off time, to the people he chooses to spend his off time with (Alessandro Michele) to his taste in art (David Hackney) to his fashion references (Keith Haring, Christopher Kane) to his collaborations and investments (Harris Reed, SS Daley) to the movie he actually fought to be in (My Policeman) -- and these are only surface level, because I, myself, am not as knowledgeable in art and queer culture as he is -- I just can't view Harry the way the GP views him anymore.

There's so much context to who he is and what he chooses to do with his free time and how he interacts with queer culture that to view him as straight is to take him so far away from fifteen years of context that it flattens him to a one-dimensional person. A snapshot in time, which, incidentally, are what all his stunts are: one-dimensional.

Because, let's face it, at the end of the day, all those stunts have one thing in common: they ended. Always. No matter how many tabloid articles talk about how serious he is, and whether he's met their family, this, that, and the other, all those women end up in the same place -- the past.

You know what never ends, though? Talk of him being queer. That is continuous - whether it's debating his fashion choices or whether or not he's queer-baiting (he's not, real people can't queer bait) or who he's dating or his songs (hi, Medicine, miss u so much girl) or whether or not he's with Louis - his proximity to queerness, the questions around it, is what always pops up and stays present. Sometimes, it gets drowned out by the GP and the tabloid articles about the female orgasm or whatever, but it never really goes away, does it?

Because Harry doesn't let it.

So, yeah. I think this fandom has always had an object permanence issue with Harry specifically, and I have no idea why that is because I don't share in that issue. I look at him, and I see a guy with a pretty solid sense of self, who has matured over the years and made concessions for his circumstances like all adults have to do, but who has only become more and more himself in his art and his queerness, and that's why the stunts don't bother me. Because I don't think they're reflective of his values, the same way I don't think Louis' stunts are reflective of his values.

I trust them both to be good people, not because I'm blind or I can't adjust to nuance or change my mind, but because I have fifteen years of context and data, none of which has ever led me to believe they're not good people, even after all this time.

And no one has to agree with me on that, but if you're asking how I keep sane, it's that. I trust them. That's all.

#iaw ask #iaw anonymous #harry styles #Harry's stunts #Harry and the fandom #Harry and the GP #Harry and queer culture

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dduane · 15 days ago

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Since I've seen you talk about detailed outlining before, how long would you say it takes you to get from a finished outline to a rough rough draft? Or does it vary too much from book to book? I know it's pretty common for writers to worry they're not writing fast enough, but I want to know if there's any way to determine realistic estimates for that stage. Most of the time estimates I see are for later, in the editing stages.

This is (a) a good question, and (b) one of those Almost Impossible To Answer ones, without getting into some detail.

First of all: "A finished outline" of what? Short story? (And yes, you can outine short stories. Sometimes they need it as much as the longer forms. Or even more.) Novella? Novelette? Novel?

...As your question gets into books later on, let's assume you mean a novel.

As is so often the case, my own experience is going to be a crap example for anyone else, as I am generally the Outlier's Outlier.

My first novel gestated in fits and spurts (with fit-and-spurt outlining) for 10+ years before yelling in my ear OKAY, READY NOW! and pulling me under the surface to drown or swim. Six weeks from (finally completed) outline to completed first draft. (That being the one that sold.)

After that I learned how to really outline from my story editors at Hanna-Barbera... because there is no pantsing in TV: your producers have to know what you're turning in, so they can tell the backers/investors. Pretty quickly I learned the art of (as we call it in the household) "weighing the story in your hand," as if it was a bag of sugar. Is there enough story here to sustain a novel? A novella? A short story? That story must shoulder up under the scaffolding you build for it and have enough power to support the weight of the narrative and the characters' interwoven interactions.

You make your call on this, and then you find out—by trial and error—whether you were right or not. Sooner or later you learn whether, and when, to trust your instincts in this regard.

Once you know the number of words you're going to have to work toward... then you can start estimating completion times.

And here is where you learn the hard, bitter business of being honest with yourself. At the end of the day, it comes down to accurate prediction/appraisal of output. How many words are you going to write per week? (I've stopped saying "per day." Too many of the You Must Write X Words Per Day folks have turned this trope toxic, and freaked new writers out.)

But more to the point: can you trust your own estimates?

Let's leave that issue to one side for the moment, and take The Door Into Shadow as an example.

I was just getting to grips with outlining as a necessity at that point (as Deep Wizardry had required something similar). DW was its own set of problems, as the pace of the outlining was being influenced by needing to do real-world research at NYPL (For this was sooooo long before Google, and there was nowhere to get the data I needed except out of books.)

TDISha, though, was another kettle of fish. Beginning and ending were plain enough to me from even the earliest conceptual stages. The middle (as always for me: middles always seem murkiest...) was still up in the air, both structurally and in terms of the intrapersonal relationships that would define it. And the middle had some extremely difficult stuff for the protagoniste to get through. (Disclosure for those who might have heard some whispered stuff about this: in this book, I was working through my own historical sexual assault/abuse at age sixteen by a "friend of the family". Last I heard, adults were still allowed to do this kind of working-through in prose. Got other opinions? I've heard them many times over many years. This approach worked for me.)

Outlining on TDISha took me something like three months. Writing the book took six months, plus/minus... once I was clear that the outline was right on the money and needed to go where it was going. Then I got back to Young Wizards work, and Scooby-Doo. (Or was it Space Ghost by then? I lose track.)

Since then, on every book I've written, outlining has routinely taken six to eight weeks. The books themselves have taken...

...ALL kinds of lengths of time. Outlining of My Enemy, My Ally took about two months. Writing the book (on very short notice, as the publisher suddenly had an empty slot to fill) took eleven days. ("Can you do this?" said the agent over the phone, very concerned. "Are you sure??" I was sure. Because the outline was detailed, even for me, and I knew exactly where I was going.)

Outlining of The Romulan Way, by comparison, took maybe a month, and the book itself took sixteen or eighteen days... because @petermorwood was co-writing. (But he was so intuitive and quick on the uptake that he might as well have been inside my head... and people still have trouble telling which of us wrote what. Which is exactly as it should be, when you're writing as a team. You don't want to be told apart: you're working as a corporate being.)

Yet Tales of the Five: The Librarian, which I'm working on completing at the moment, took maybe a year to outline, and has been drafting since 2019. And many books between now and [twenty? thirty?....) years past, have produced wildly different results that are resistant to any kind of logical analysis.

...I think what I'm getting down to here is that attempts to jam your work-in-progress into a Box of Timing Expectations are possibly futile. All kinds of things will affect your ratio of outlining-to-execution time: life-crisis crap, the annoying intersection of mundane work-and-living needs with creative time, illness, straightforward inability to concentrate on the writing no matter how you try: you name it. It'll just be maddening if you try to force it to make sense. (Especially since so much in this equation rests on how many words you turn out a week. (Month. Whatever. Stop counting it by the day like calories, ffs. Art will not willingly be sliced up to go onto the scale and be weighed by the goddamn gram.)

…My take on this: Stop paying attention to other people's half-baked, self-centered expectations on how fast you should be writing. Do what YOU, and your Work, need to be doing.)

In particular: take the time to do what your story seems to be requiring you to do. And cut it some slack. It may know better than your Conscious Brain does.

More could be said about this, but for the moment, I suspect this is enough. Other people are all too willing to flourish the whip over your sweating, straining Creative Selves' backs and crack it as if your Steeds of Creativity aren't working hard enough to suit their standards.

You know what? Fuck that noise.

"Realistic estimates"? There aren't any. Other people are making them up. They want to make themselves feel right. Whether that makes you feel ineffective is the last thing on their minds. (And work executed from that POV is dreadfully revelatory of their work’s likely quality.)

Work as your own version of the Work desires you to. Write your best at your own best pace.

Those other guys? What have they written lately? Who cares! The hell with them. Go where your own Work takes you, at your (and its!) own speed. Which is the right speed.

And gods' speed. :)

ETA to @rabidbehemoth: Jeez, be SLOW and shame the Devil. Let James Joyce be your poster boy on this! I'm sure he'd have liked to be done with Ulysses sooner, but some things can't be rushed, y'know? :)

#writing advice #writing speeds

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artsy-hobbitses · 5 months ago

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One of the images that would not leave my head is that of Prowl coming face to face with the man he once was, which happens during TTB's Functionist! AU arc and becomes a narrative testament to the growth he's gone through as a person inside, as opposed to the shiny, chrome outer growth of P7031 who sees him as a glitch that has to be eradicated. So they go Highlander on each other because THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE As an additional treat, a short fic under the cut!

Preston Wan Peirong - Prowl

Jace Zayden - Functionist!AU Jazz

Benjamin ‘Ben’ Bane - Functionist AU Bumblebee

Hanley Riordan - HotRod

Hale Donovan - Hound

Stefan Scavarro - Starscream

Spencer Rao Shouren - Springer

Breaking into Sentinel Prime’s base was a deathwish back in his own universe, and it was no different here, Preston Wan mused to himself as he slipped out of the shadows during the five minute window — just as he’d predicted — where the guards at the outpost were scheduled to change shifts before beckoning the rest of the ground crew to follow in his stead.

The first line of defense cleared, they silently made their way towards the heart of the self-proclaimed dictator’s operations, breaths hitching in unison every time a guard passed a hair’s breadth away from them.

The base schematics Jace Zayden had managed to hack into and download through one of the contractors’ stolen biometrics data revealed a network of utility corridors which saw little use from the guardsmen — minute cracks in the citadel’s defenses they could capitalize on.

“How close are we to the laboratories?” Jace inquired under his breath as behind him, Benjamin Bane surreptitiously peeked at the hologram of a map emitted from a prosthetic hand.

“There’s a turn 500m ahead—we gotta take a right from there,” the youngest member of the team murmured, frowning slightly before adding: “You really think that’s where we’ll find them?”

“If what we know about the Matrix is true and Stefan’s communications with us are found out — and I’m sure they have been — then yes,” Preston said with a nod as they moved deeper into enemy territory. “The Quintessons ate those of us they couldn’t use—with greed rivaling theirs, I don’t believe Sentinel would waste a warm body on a grave over a weapon. Ours included.”

Jace winced.

“A ‘We got this team, let’s not get caught’ would have sufficed.”

“Pep talks are your specialty,” Preston reminded the rebellion leader with a raised eyebrow. “Facts are mine.”

“Like you keep proving with every sentence, my man,” Jace responded with a resigned sigh as they were halfway to the turn, when he suddenly came to a dead halt.

The raised hackles, the snarl, Preston knew what it meant even before he caught the faintest sound of gravel crunching underneath metallic soles approaching them.

“It’s him,” came the low growl from the shambling mass of fur and muscle that was Hale Donovan, who suddenly loomed over them protectively.

“Hey, it’s five on one tin man this time, and between the lot o’ us, I like those odds,” Hanley Riordan pointed out, taking on a defensive stance, and immediately Preston could feel a migraine coming along at the risk of the plan derailing entirely.

“Listen to me. Any changes to the plan at this stage, and we risk losing both Starscream and the Matrix,” he said sternly as he held out an arm to bar the rest of the group from engaging with their pursuer. “Keep the pace. I’ll stall him.”

Ben and Hanley both opened their mouths to protest, though Jace’s voice cut through the tension first.

“We’re not leaving you to get smoked out here!”

“Don’t be dramatic, I have no intention of disobeying a direct order by dying out here,” came Preston’s brisk assurance with a wry, fleeting grin as the pistols hooked to his belt hummed to life.

“An order from whom?!” Jace snapped, his grip on the Autobot chief strategist 's shoulder tightening as the heavy footfalls echoed closer to them.

There was a pause as Preston clutched the grips of his firearms, stoic features softening with tender solemnity. Home. He’d been ordered to complete the mission and come home. Home to Spencer, who needed him more than ever now. Home to—

“You.”

Jace blinked and took a second to compute an order that seemingly never passed his lips; the thought was about as absurd as the idea of two Prestons inhabiting the same universe; One a hated nemesis, the other a fledgling friend.

“... Aight. Holding you to my order, Prowler,” said the rebellion leader firmly as he thumped the ex-cop’s chestplate twice with the side of his fist in a brotherly manner, gaze dripping with loathing for the figure that strode purposefully out of the shadows. “Go full Highlander on his ass.”

With a sharp flick of the hand, Jace led the rest of the crew and made a dash for the laboratory block, while Preston positioned himself to block any access to their path.

The figure, all sleek steel and titanium save for a face that he imagined was as devoid of warmth as his was from years ago, stopped nine feet away from him.

“I’m under directives from the Prime to take all of you in for questioning,” P7031 said emotionlessly, cocking his fist to activate a firing gauntlet.

“Affirmative. I’m under my own to see to it that you don’t, and my captain’s to ensure I survive this encounter,” Preston responded in kind as he whipped out his pistols.

P7031’s blank slate of a face suddenly rippled with something that looked like it could have been pompous scorn.

“Strong words for a glitch. And what exactly do you imagine you can do against a better version of youself in every conceivable way?”

There was a second’s pause as Preston thought back to the man he once was a lifetime ago, a perfect cog in the machinery he was told kept the peace for the good of the many. He’d been taught to view deviation from his purpose and the system as something that had to be fixed—a glitch, as P7031 had so eloquently put it. But if it was one thing his time with the Autobots, with Jace had taught him, it was that he was more than his purpose, more than his past, and more than the copy of The Art Of War which those who shared the barcode on his neck were ordered to memorize word for word from the moment their small hands were steady enough to hold a weapon.

“Improvise.”

#Maccadams #Humanformers #Prowl #writing #fic #art #Humanformers Art

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zeta-in-de-walls · 6 months ago

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It's so funny to see all of Dream's manipulative and malicious tactics he's always used in dramas to be properly called out.

None of this is new. Dream loves to sound patronizing to belittle his opponents, to downplay, to put things out of context while throwing so many words and explanation and confusion that it all gets lost. Dream keeps responding because the more he says, the more chance there is that the other person will just give arguing with him because why bother and Dream can act like he has the last word.

He is so misleading. Now he's demanding evidence from anyone he interacts with while cherrypicking what he wants to respond to. Evidence does not clear up as much as you might think.

Information is beautiful. Using graphs and screenshots and making use of data to support your points is gorgeous. It's so satisfying to read a well-constructed argument.

...

Misinformation is beautiful. Using carefully selected graphs and screenshots and making selective use of data to support your points and skew the narrative is gorgeous. It's so satisfying to read a well-constructed argument. It's almost impossible to tell it apart from the real thing.

But today, Dream has gone against someone who has a lot of fans, a lot of fans who know Dream very well and who are patient enough to genuinely dissect his arguments. He lashed out at a beloved figure who's had little real drama and it's crazy how obviously weak his justifications are.

Today he's getting a lot of attention from drama but soon enough it'll pass and Dream's left with even less than he had. Hatewatching is a very temporary hit.

He even mainchanneled this stuff so his viewers who only interacted with him on youtube and barely know much about drama have been made aware. His vid isn't that damning in isolation but some of them are gonna be intrigued enough to check out responses and find out how crazy it is.

#dream situation

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glitter-stained · 4 months ago

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Look I don't like RHATO #25 for many reasons but if you're gonna talk about the beatdown and you don't like it you can just say "that issue had terrible writing" or "that's not my batman he would never do that"

You don't have to defend him, this isn't his first instance of abuse with any of his children or jason in particular but he's such a big and old character I understand not wanting to see him being an abusive parent ever (though in that case I advise you to just not engage in his and Jason's mainline relationship at all, at the very least not red hood!jason)

What does really really grate me though, is people trying to defend it because those reasonings are so hypocritical it's clear they just don't like the way Jason's character challenges the bat-status quo and that ends up literally just being abuse justification rhetoric again and again and I'm tired. If you're gonna be a hater can you not do it in a way that makes you sound like the parent who stands to the side watching their partner "discipline" the kid with a belt because "the kid is a bad kid that deserves to be punished."

-well batman is a hero and Jason is a criminal what was he supposed to do he can't play favourites! So, I call Batman a hero when he acts like it but sure, Batman is a vigilante. He fights criminals. Have y'all ever heard of this little term called "conflict of interest"? Yk when your personal connection to the case you're working means you are more likely to lose your cool and let your emotions affect your judgement beyond measure so it's important to delegate? That thing? Batman is always showing up in everyone's comic, the outlaws can have some reinforcement being called to handle Jason's case for once this is absurd, Bruce is more compromised than the cia agent i've been pegging for months in exchange for data. Fathers shouldn't have to arrest their sons.

-well Jason deserved it! Punitive justice, especially fucking punitive violence, is the enemy. It doesn't work for children and it doesn't work on adults and it's a ridiculous approach to harm reduction and recidivism prevention. Well, killing might work, but i don't reckon rhato#25 batman defenders would defend this*. I understand the cathartic appeal of wanting to see fictional characters you dislike punished, really, and the desire for vengeance in the form of punitive justice is normal and perfectly understandable; but however valid this emotion is, that doesn't mean actually enacting this brutality becomes the correct course of actions. Idk how else to say it but however evil you think the victim is it's still not okay to victim-blame. And sure, I can tell fiction from reality and know this isn't a real person, but when people say stuff like that it still tells me that the person who is saying this stuff believes that it's not abuse if the victim is evil. And when you're there, it only takes a bit of cognitive bias and dissonance and carefully worded narrative bending for the victim to be categorised evil and denied the respect of their pain.

(*this isn't about the death penalty. I do not support state violence)

People are so concerned with hating Jason's character and wanting to see him punished for his crimes they will bend things backwards to justify that a father brutally beating down his son in an extremely vulnerable moment while the son doesn't fight back isn't abuse because the character is inherently bad and thus deserves to be violently punished. And then we wonder why victims blame themselves or explain "it's different because it's me so the situation is unique, i'm a special case because i'm wrong", when this is the classic mentality in our societies.

Truly a mystery indeed

#dc #jason todd #dc comics #red hood #anti batman #anti bruce wayne #bruce wayne critical #batman critical #fandom critical #pissed off again #moral judgement is not permission to abuse #jfc

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pohtaytoh · 23 days ago

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UNSEEN

.° ༘🎧⋆🖇₊˚ෆ Lara Raj x Idol!Reader

In the dazzling, fiercely competitive world of fame, Y/N, a rising star from Huntrix, and Lara Raj, a captivating idol from rival group KATSEYE, share a love that defies every rule. Their secret, a fragile flame nurtured in stolen moments, threatens to ignite a scandal that could shatter their careers.

At a grand award show, a single, lingering glance, a moment meant only for them, is caught by eagle-eyed fans. Suddenly, whispers turn to shouts, and the internet explodes with theories, dividing their devoted fandoms. Their powerful companies, desperate to control the narrative, impose a harsh silence, forcing Y/N and Lara apart, pushing their hidden connection to its breaking point.

As the pressure mounts and their futures hang in the balance, Y/N and Lara face an impossible choice: cling to a love that must remain hidden, or risk everything to bring their truth into the light. Will their bond survive the relentless glare of the public eye, or is some love simply destined to remain Unseen?

part: one. two. three. <four.>

The phone call between the two company CEOs was long and tense. Huntrix's CEO, Mr. Lee, was initially furious at the suggestion. "A collaboration? With KATSEYE? And Y/N and Lara specifically? Are you trying to ruin us both, Mr. Kim?"

But Mr. Kim was persistent, laying out Sophia's arguments, showing the data of the ongoing fan speculation, and painting a picture of a groundbreaking success that could change the industry. After hours of heated discussion, a very risky, very conditional agreement was reached.

Huntrix's CEO called Y/N into his office the next day. He looked tired, his usual sharp suit a little rumpled. "Y/N," he began, his voice flat, "KATSEYE's CEO has proposed something… unusual. A collaboration. Between you and Lara Raj."

Y/N's breath hitched, her heart leaping with a sudden, impossible hope. "They suggest a song called 'Free'," he continued, watching her closely. "A song about breaking free, about honesty. They believe it could turn this whole mess around. But it has to be your song, Y/N. You need to write it. It needs to be real, powerful, and a hit. Can you do that, Y/N? Can you deliver a song that will make everyone forget the scandal and only remember the music?" The challenge in his voice was clear, a heavy weight placed on her shoulders. This wasn't just about her career anymore; it was about Lara, about their love, about a chance to finally tell their story.

At the same time, Lara was facing her own challenge from Mr. Kim. He looked at her with a serious, almost unblinking gaze.

"Lara," he said, his voice low and firm, "Sophia has convinced me to take an enormous risk. If this song, Free does well, and I mean exceptionally well, a chart-topping, record-breaking success then we will fully support your relationship with Y/N. Without boundaries. We will release a public statement confirming you as a couple, and we will face the consequences together. But if it fails, Lara, if this song doesn't achieve what we need it to, then everything will be worse. Much worse. Do you understand the stakes?" Lara's eyes widened, a mix of terror and overwhelming gratitude washing over her. This was it. Their chance.

After her meeting with Mr. Kim, Lara immediately sought out Sophia. She found her in the practice room, stretching. "Sophia," Lara said, her voice filled with a mix of awe and disbelief. "Mr. Kim told me about 'Free.' About it being your idea. Is that… is that true?"

Sophia stopped stretching, turning to face Lara, a small, tired smile on her face. "Yeah, it was my idea. I couldn't stand seeing you like that anymore, Lara. You were so unhappy. And I knew, deep down, that the fans weren't going to let this go. We had to do something drastic. Something real."

Lara felt tears welling up again, but these were tears of profound relief and gratitude. She rushed forward, pulling Sophia into a tight hug. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. "Thank you so much, Sophia. You have no idea what this means to me. To us."

Sophia hugged her back just as tightly. "Of course, Lara. We're a team. Always. Now go write that hit song, okay? Make it so good they have no choice but to let you be happy."

Despite the immense pressure, the fear of failure, and the weight of their entire future resting on this one song, Y/N and Lara poured every ounce of their being into "Free." They worked separately at first, sending lyrics and melody ideas through their managers, each word, each note, carrying a desperate message to the other.

It was a song born of pain and longing, but also of fierce hope and unwavering love. Y/N crafted the verses, her voice weaving a story of feeling trapped and the yearning for truth, her lyrics painting pictures of hidden glances and silent promises.

Lara's powerful vocals soared in the chorus, a defiant cry for freedom and acceptance, her voice full of raw emotion that resonated with every listener. The bridge, a stunning duet, was a conversation between their two souls, a promise of a future where they could finally be themselves. The song was raw, honest, and undeniably emotional, a masterpiece born from their struggle.

The day came for their first official meeting, not just with their groups, but with each other. It was held in a neutral recording studio, carefully chosen by the companies.

Y/N walked in with the Huntrix members – Minji, Jisoo, and Hana – who surrounded her, offering quiet support, their hands on her back, whispering words of encouragement.

Lara entered with the KATSEYE members – Sophia, Daniela, Manon, Megan, and Yoonchae – who looked just as nervous but determined, their eyes fixed on Lara, ready to catch her if she stumbled.

Y/N's eyes immediately found Lara's across the room. It had been months. Months of only seeing each other in blurry fan cams, of pretending not to exist in the same space, of living with a constant, aching emptiness.

Lara's eyes were red-rimmed, but a flicker of pure, unadulterated joy ignited in them as she saw Y/N. A gasp escaped Y/N's lips, and she felt her own throat tighten, tears pricking her eyes. It was like seeing the sun after a long, dark winter, like breathing fresh air after being suffocated.

"Lara," Y/N whispered, her voice trembling, barely audible.

"Y/N," Lara breathed, a single tear escaping and tracing a path down her cheek, her voice thick with emotion.

Before the managers, who were standing stiffly by the door, could step in and enforce the rules, Sophia gently pushed Lara forward, a silent command in her eyes. Minji did the same for Y/N, a knowing look passing between the two leaders.

They met in the middle of the room, slowly, almost cautiously, as if afraid the moment would shatter like fragile glass. Then, with a shared, desperate gasp, they threw their arms around each other, holding on tight, burying their faces in each other's shoulders.

It was a hug filled with months of unspoken longing, of fear, of love that had been forced into hiding, now finally allowed to breathe. Their members watched, some with tears in their eyes, others with quiet, knowing smiles, a shared understanding passing between the two groups. It was a moment of pure, raw emotion, a reunion that spoke louder than any words, a testament to the power of their bond.

"I missed you so much," Y/N whispered into Lara's shoulder, her voice muffled, clinging to her as if she might disappear. "It was so hard."

"Me too. So, so much," Lara replied, her voice thick with tears, holding Y/N even tighter, her fingers digging into Y/N's back, a desperate need to feel her close. "I thought… I thought we'd never get this back."

The recording process for "Free" was intense, but filled with a new kind of energy, a shared purpose that fueled them. Y/N and Lara worked side-by-side in the vocal booth, their voices blending perfectly, a harmony born of deep understanding and shared pain.

Their emotions poured into every line, every high note, every whispered word. The song wasn't just a track; it was their story, their plea, their hope, a beacon for anyone who felt unseen or unheard.

When "Free" was finally released, the world wasn't ready for it. It wasn't just a song; it was an anthem, a movement. Its raw honesty, its powerful message of self-acceptance and breaking free from judgment, resonated deeply with millions across the globe.

It shot to the top of the charts within hours, breaking streaming records, and becoming a global phenomenon. The music video, which subtly showed themes of confinement and liberation through abstract imagery and symbolic movements without explicitly showing a couple, fueled the fan theories even more, making the song's hidden meaning even more powerful.

The success was undeniable. It was bigger than anyone had dared to dream, a triumph that silenced the critics and shocked the industry and true to his word, Mr. Kim, after a final, tense discussion with Mr. Lee, made the call.

The official statements dropped simultaneously from both companies. They were short, direct, and utterly shocking to the general public, appearing on news sites and social media feeds worldwide.

"After careful consideration and recognizing the genuine connection between our artists, we are pleased to confirm that Huntrix's Y/N and KATSEYE's Lara Raj are in a relationship. We ask for fans' understanding and support for their personal happiness."

The internet exploded. Fans who had been arguing for months were stunned into silence, then erupted in joyous chaos. The "shippers" screamed in triumph, their years of theories finally confirmed.

The haters were silenced, their arguments crumbling in the face of official confirmation and the overwhelming positive response. The news was everywhere, a global sensation, a groundbreaking moment in history.

Hours after the announcement, Y/N and Lara appeared together on a live broadcast, their first public appearance as a confirmed couple.

They sat side-by-side on a comfortable couch, a little nervous, but holding hands openly under the table, their fingers intertwined, a visible symbol of their newfound freedom. Their smiles were soft, genuine, and a little shy, but radiating pure happiness.

"Hello everyone," Y/N said, her voice a little shaky but full of happiness, her eyes shining. "Thank you for joining us today."

Lara squeezed her hand, her gaze full of love as she looked at Y/N. "We know this is a big surprise for many of you," she added, her voice clear and strong. "But we wanted to come here and talk to you directly, to share this moment with you."

They answered questions, not about their private lives in detail, but about their feelings, about the journey of "Free," and about the importance of love, honesty, and being true to yourself.

They teased each other gently, shared inside jokes that only they and their closest fans would understand, and their deep affection for each other was clear for everyone to see. The comments section exploded with hearts, supportive messages, and crying emojis from overwhelmed fans.

"We just hope that 'Free' can be a song for everyone who feels trapped, who wants to be true to themselves, no matter what," Y/N said, her gaze finding Lara's, a silent message passing between them.

Lara nodded, squeezing Y/N's hand tighter, her eyes full of emotion. "Love is love. And we are so thankful for all of you who are choosing to support us, to support love in all its forms."

As the live broadcast ended, Y/N leaned her head on Lara's shoulder, a deep sigh of relief escaping her. The world had seen them. Their love, once a carefully guarded secret, was now out in the open, celebrated by many, a beacon of hope for others.

It was no longer unseen but even as they shared their love with the world, Y/N knew that the deepest, most precious parts of their connection – the quiet moments, the unspoken understandings, the way their souls truly connected, the secret language of their hearts – those parts would always remain, in their own beautiful way, truly Unseen, known only to them. And that was perfectly okay. In fact, it made their love even more special.

previous part.

a/n: FINAL PART! I did what I promised and posted everything. Also when I was writing this, it reminded me of Not Today, Not Ever except this happened first before they broke up. Somehow they are both connected. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing this! Tysm for all the love my stories have been receiving. If you want to share your thoughts just use the #UNSEEN.

#lara raj #lara raj x reader #lara x reader #lara #katseye lara #katseye lara x reader #UNSEEN #katseye

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yonko-world · 1 month ago

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The USUK Incest Accusation: A Canon-Based Response

A textual analysis of USUK in Hetalia: addressing the ‘incestuous’ criticism with canonical evidence and character interpretation.

I'm a Japanese Hetalia fan. I’ve seen some people criticizing USUK as a “proship”, so I wanted to take a closer look at whether the relationship between the US and UK in canon can really be considered incestuous.

Abstract

The USUK (America × England) pairing, a fan-created coupling based on the manga Hetalia, has remained a popular and enduring favorite across international fandoms for many years. However, beginning in the 2020s, there has been a noticeable rise in ethical criticisms against this pairing—particularly the claim that “USUK is incestuous.”

While this paper does not seek to investigate the broader context or fandom dynamics that led to the spread of such claims, it will demonstrate that—upon closer reading of the original settings and narrative representations—accusations of USUK being incestuous do not hold up. The goal of this paper is to respond to such criticisms by presenting a clear, textually grounded argument based on canonical evidence.

1. Understanding the Background and Basis of Incest Accusations

1-1. Incest as a Religious and Cultural Taboo

In many cultures and religions, incest is considered ethically unacceptable. This stance is often rooted in concerns over familial role confusion and the preservation of social order. However, such norms are based on societal and religious conventions and do not necessarily reflect the emotional or relational complexities involved.

1-2. Incest as a Legal and Human Rights Issue

From a legal and ethical standpoint, incest is also criticized because it is believed that free consent between close relatives is difficult to ensure. Such relationships may entail coercion or dominance, especially when a power imbalance is present. In this context, the core concern lies in the freedom and fairness of mutual consent in romantic or sexual relationships.

1-3. Structure of the Incest Criticism Toward the USUK Pairing

In order to evaluate whether the accusation of “incestuous implications” in the USUK pairing is valid, we must examine the following three points:

Whether there exists a de facto familial (or sibling-like) relationship between England and America

Whether there is a power hierarchy or psychological dominance in their relationship

Whether their current relationship reflects a continuation of a “guardian and dependent” dynamic

2. Examination of the Elements Commonly Cited as the Basis for Criticism

2-1. Whether There Exists a De Facto Familial Relationship Between England and America

The official data book Hetalia World☆Stars Character Book Collezione (2021) clearly outlines the family relationships of each character. According to the book:

England's family: his older brothers Scotland, Wales, and Northern Ireland (members of the same union)

America's family: his adoptive brother, Canada

There is no mention suggesting that England and America currently share any familial or family-like relationship.

This supports America’s line in the episode “Cleaning the Storage Room” (2007): 「もう君の弟でもない」(“I'm no longer your little brother.”) Taken at face value, this implies that their fraternal—or familial—relationship is already dissolved.

What about before America gained independence from England? In the episode “Battle for the New Continent: America” (2008), England, France, and Finland visit the New World to see a newly emerged child representing a new nation—America. Upon seeing him, both England and France initially argue that he must be their younger brother due to his resemblance. However, when they notice that his mannerisms more closely resemble Finland’s, they both backtrack and say: 「似てるかどうかで決まるもんじゃないからな！」(“It’s not about who he looks like!”) This moment indicates a rejection of the earlier claim to familial connection.

In a post-independence episode titled “The African Front”, a common soldier remarks to them: 「お二人って兄弟？なのに似てないんですね」(“You two are brothers? But you don’t look alike at all.”) This implies that even to outsiders within the story, England and America do not appear to be related in any physical sense.

Returning to “Battle for the New Continent: America”, there is a scene in which England tells young America: 「今日からお前は俺の弟だ！」(“From today, you’re my little brother!”) America, who already seemed aware of his own identity, responds without surprise: 「うん。じゃあおにいちゃんってよぶね」(“Okay. Then I’ll call you big brother.”) However, England, recalling his contentious relationships with his own older brothers or other elder nations, quickly walks it back: 「いや…イギリスでいいよ…」(“No… just call me England.”) This exchange illustrates England’s own discomfort with being placed in a fraternal role.

The subtitle of the episode is “Flag-Crusher England.” In Japanese fan culture, the term "flag" refers to a narrative cue or setup that signals a future development—such as a romantic or familial relationship. In this case, the “brotherhood flag” (兄弟フラグ) would be a hint that England and America might develop a sibling-like bond. By “crushing” the flag, the episode title suggests that England himself rejected or undermined that implication. Ultimately, this leaves the status of their fraternal bond ambiguous at best.

In conclusion, there is no canonical evidence to support the existence of a familial or sibling-like relationship between England and America. Any such interpretation remains ambiguous, unsupported, or actively refuted in the original material.

2-2. Power Dynamics and Psychological Dominance in the Relationship Between England and America

Next, we examine whether a power imbalance exists between the two characters.

We will analyze the question of power imbalance from the following three perspectives: (a) Their historical relationship as countries (e.g., colonial vs. imperial power) (b) Emotional or psychological dependence or dominance (c) Narrative representations of superiority/inferiority or teacher/pupil dynamics

According to a comment by Hidekaz Himaruya, America was originally portrayed as “a kind of proto-country” (“Battle for the New Continent: America”), and subsequently became a colony under England. After growing up and achieving independence, America entered into a relationship with England as a fellow sovereign nation.

Thus, in terms of historical national status (a), their relationship transitioned as follows: Colonizer–Colony → Independent Nation–Independent Nation

It is important to note that America's independence was not something "granted" by England—it was something America actively fought for and won.

Therefore, in terms of (a) historical power dynamics, we can summarize as follows: While there was once a power hierarchy with England as the colonial power and America as its colony, this structure was overturned with America's independence, and their relationship thereafter became one between equals.

Now, let us consider how (b) emotional or psychological dependence/dominance and (c) narrative superiority/inferiority or guidance dynamics played out prior to America’s independence—when the historical power imbalance was still in place.

As mentioned earlier, their first encounter occurs in “Battle for the New Continent: America,” and their relationship develops further in “America and England” (2006). To understand their dynamic before independence, we will review depictions from these two episodes.

Depictions from “Battle for the New Continent: America” and “America and England”

In “Battle for the New Continent: America”,

England, after a prolonged rivalry with France, (A1)decides to let America himself choose who he wishes to align with . In his eagerness to attract America, England emits such a sinister aura that even France is frightened—causing America to burst into tears.

France, on the other hand, offers America his delicious-looking cuisine. America begins to approach France, and England—unable to present anything more appealing—assumes the contest is lost and crouches down, shedding tears of frustration.

Yet , (A2)America is concerned upon seeing England in tears and chooses to go to him instead. Witnessing this, France dejectedly concedes: 「あっ俺ふられた…」(“Ah... guess I lost.”)

Thus, England becomes (B)“America’s ‘big brother’ (maybe?)” and, while reflecting on the hardships America will face in the future, he resolves: (C)「こいつと二人支え合って生きて行こう」(“Let’s support each other and live together.”)

Then, (D1)America—who had been peacefully asleep in England’s arms—suddenly jumps up and runs toward a wild buffalo. Ignoring England’s warning cries, young America proceeds to lift the buffalo and swing it around as if it were a toy.

England watches in shock and mutters: (D2)「あれ…？もしかしてこいつ結構一人でもやってけるんじゃ…」(“Huh...? Maybe he doesn’t even need my protection...”) His expression reveals a sudden realization that challenges his assumed role as protector.

In “America and England”,

(E)France teases England: 「友達いないイギリス君」(“Poor England, no friends again, huh?”) England snaps back: 「う…うっさい！ケンカじゃ俺に勝てない癖に！」(“Sh-shut up! You can’t even beat me in a fight!”) —but he is clearly still in a foul mood.

When he visits America, the young boy greets him cheerfully: 「来てくれただけでもうれしいぞ」(“I’m just happy you came to see me!”) (F)England, momentarily soothed by the child’s warmth, notices France watching them smugly from the shadows and blushes in embarrassment.

After spending some time together, England prepares to leave. (G1)America desperately clings to him, crying: 「帰るなんて許さないぞ！」(“I won’t let you leave!”) He pleads: 「こんな広い所で一人は怖い」「心細いよ」(“It’s scary to be alone in such a big place.” / “I feel lonely.”)

England responds gently: 「心細いのは経験あるからよくわかるよ」(“I know what it’s like to feel lonely.”) 「またくるからお前もがんばって強くなれよ」(“I’ll come back again. Be strong until then.”)

(G2)Later, when England visits again, he finds America greatly changed. Now taller than England and speaking in a confident, casual tone, America welcomes him as if nothing had happened. England is utterly stunned by how much—and how quickly—America has grown.

Supplementary Analysis for A1–G2

(A1), (A2) – On the surface, the episode presents the scenario as a competition where America is “forced” to choose between England and France. However, the narrative clearly depicts that the final decision is shaped by America’s own volition and emotional response. In this sense, the initiative lies with America. Specifically, (A2) portrays a moment in which America, having already exchanged words one-on-one with England, approaches him of his own accord out of empathy, suggesting they were already growing emotionally close. France seems to recognize this and withdraws voluntarily.

(B) – In England’s internal monologue, he says that he “became America’s big brother (maybe?),” indicating his uncertainty. Although he was previously asserting, alongside France, that America was “his younger brother,” this line reveals England himself is unsure whether a sibling relationship truly exists between them.

(C) – This marks a moment where England becomes aware of a sense of responsibility as America’s protector. However, rather than imagining a one-sided guardianship, he envisions a future in which they will “support each other and live together,” implying a mutual partnership.

(D1), (D2) – When America falls asleep in England’s arms, he is presented as a vulnerable child, reinforcing the image of someone in need of protection. However, this expectation—held by both England and the reader—is subverted when America suddenly awakens, displaying tremendous natural strength by lifting and playing with a wild buffalo. This scene undermines even England’s own emerging sense of identity as “America’s protector,” highlighting how America’s extraordinary nature destabilizes traditional roles.

(E) – England tries to brush off France’s teasing by citing his superior fighting skills, but deep down, he is clearly affected by the jab about having no friends.

(F) – England is able to interact sincerely and comfortably with young America, who shows him open affection. However, when France watches this moment smugly from the shadows, England blushes with embarrassment. This likely stems from an awareness of the asymmetry in their relationship—a lonely colonial power finding emotional comfort in a much younger, innocent colony.

(G1), (G2) – From (G1), we can infer that America, though still a dependent colony, feels close enough to England to cry out: “I won’t let you leave!” This illustrates his emotional reliance on England, born from loneliness and fear. England, in turn, is touched by America’s sincere longing and hurries to visit him again. However, in (G2), that budding codependence is abruptly disrupted by America’s growth. When England visits next, he finds a completely changed America—taller, more confident, and emotionally independent.

Thus far, we have reviewed the narrative portrayals of England and America before the latter's independence. In summary:

(b) Regarding emotional or psychological dependence, it appears that England (as the colonizing power) and America (as the colony) were drawn to each other through their shared sense of loneliness. They began to form a relationship in which England sought to be needed and America sought someone to rely on—a kind of mutual dependence mediated by the power imbalance. However, this dynamic was disrupted before it could solidify, due to America’s precocious strength and rapid growth. He quickly outgrew the role of a dependent, undermining the structure before it could be fully established.

This reading is supported by a note from Himaruya’s Miscellaneous Setting Collection (2008), which describes America as: 「昔は泣き虫ですぐにイギリスやフランスを頼る弟体質だったが、厳しい西部の風に吹かれてるうち、いつの間にか精神的にも肉体的にも異常に成長してしまい、なんか甘えられなくなっていた。」(“He used to be a crybaby who clung to England and France like a dependent little brother, but after being exposed to the harsh winds of the West, he somehow grew unusually strong—both mentally and physically—and couldn't bring himself to depend on them anymore.”)

(c) Regarding portrayals of superiority, inferiority, or a mentor-pupil dynamic: while England is older, America is repeatedly shown to possess exceptional strength even as a child. Moreover, the narrative often depicts shifts in who holds the initiative, suggesting that no fixed hierarchy exists between the two. We can therefore conclude that a clearly defined top-down or teacher-student relationship is not consistently represented in the work.

It is true that in “Cleaning the Storage Room” and “Make a British Food” (2007), flashbacks show a younger America who is unable to push back against England’s fussing and instead chooses words that would please him.

However, based on the foregoing analysis, these scenes are better interpreted not as evidence of coercion or oppression, but as signs of America’s personal kindness and his desire not to hurt England’s feelings. In other words, they stem from his own volition—not from a forced or imbalanced power dynamic.

2-3. Is the Current USUK Relationship a Continuation of the “Guardian and Dependent” Dynamic?

In the previous section, we examined their relationship during the period prior to America’s independence, when a clear power imbalance existed. We found that even then, their bond could not be reduced to a fixed hierarchical structure. However, this was largely due to America’s exceptional abilities and rapid growth, and not necessarily the result of a conscious choice made by either party.

This section shifts focus to the post-independence period, in order to examine how their relationship evolved and to consider to what extent the “guardian and dependent” model was preserved—or perhaps transcended.

Let us begin with their first canonical appearance in Hetalia, the episode “Hetare 2: Allied Forces” (2006). As Hidekaz Himaruya comments, “Since America is a country formed by defeating England, they’ve had a bad relationship from the start.” In this episode, they are portrayed as bickering rivals with a troubled history.

During a strategy meeting, a quarrel breaks out when England rejects one of America’s selfish proposals. Their exchange—

「また君か。本当に昔からイギリスは否定が好きだね」（“You again. England’s always been a sucker for denial,”）

followed by,

「俺が一番否定したいのはお前の存在自体なんだけど…」（“The thing I want to deny the most is your existence”）

—reveals the routine nature of their disagreements and reflects England’s pride as a former colonial power.

The quarrel escalates when England complains, 「だいたい恩も忘れて独立しやがって！お前頭の中までハンバーガーなんじゃねーの？」（“You had the nerve to forget your debt and declare independence! Your brain’s made of hamburgers?”） America retaliates: 「…じゃ俺も言わせてもらうが、この間君の家に遊び行ったとき出されたスコーン、あれすごーくまずかったぞ」（“...If I may say something in return, those scones you served me the other day were absolutely awful.”） England shouts, 「てめぇ！人がせっかく作ってやったのにそういうかっ！」（“You bastard! I worked hard to make those for you!”） America, surprised, responds, 「アレ君の自作だったのか！？」（“Wait, YOU made those!?”） Their argument quickly derails from the meeting’s agenda into personal grievances.

This scene clearly portrays that the former colonizer–colony dynamic has already collapsed. Yet it also shows that America had recently visited England’s home, and England had baked for him—a personal gesture that America appreciated enough to keep quiet about, despite disliking the taste.

While this moment may reflect lingering traces of their past relationship, it also illustrates America’s agency: he visited England of his own volition, and despite his displeasure, chose not to ruin the mood. This is quite different from the passive behavior of a “protected child” indulging in a caretaker’s affection.

In the next episode, “Hetare 3: G-R Nonaggression Pact?”,

America proudly shows off a new fighter plane, which he says he developed specifically “to beat up England.” to which England responds childishly by brandishing a cursed chair “that kills anyone who sits in it.” They continue exchanging immature provocations.

Later, England invites America out for drinks to gather intelligence, but ends up getting drunk himself and blurting out his true feelings. Slurring and crying, he yells: 「俺のおかげで一人前になれた癖に、偉そうにすんなよなっ！」（“You only became a proper country because of me, so don’t act all high and mighty!”）「一緒にフランスと戦ったときはいい友達になれると思った俺がバカだったよ」（“I thought we could be good friends when we fought France together—guess I was a fool!”）「バーカバーカアメリカのバーカ」（“You idiot, idiot, America you big idiot!”）

This outburst reveals that England does recognize America as an equal, but also shows his lingering emotional complexity. He once had hopes of building a genuine friendship with America, and even now he seems unable to let go of that desire.

This is reminiscent of their dynamic in “America and England,” where England, though strong and solitary, sought a relationship of mutual trust even before America’s independence. Though he often says things like “I helped you because you were pitiful” or “you forgot your debt,” these statements emphasize his role as a giver—but what he truly wanted (and still wants) from America was not deference, but recognition and connection.

These episodes are among the earliest in the series and can be interpreted as foundational to their relationship. However, as Hetalia continued over the years—with new episodes, illustrations, and variations—there were occasional depictions that seemed to contradict this initial framing.

For example, in some post-independence episodes, England’s resentful and somewhat overbearing behavior, stemming from his lingering feelings, fades, and he is instead portrayed as the “straight man” constantly overwhelmed by America’s antics. This could give the appearance of a mischievous child and a long-suffering guardian, though not necessarily reflect a true hierarchy.

There was also a period when Himaruya seemed to playfully exaggerate the idea that “England raised America.” In some cases, America’s outrageous behavior is chalked up to England’s poor parenting skills. In The Book Paper (2008) and Go Go Allied Forces (2008), characters like Japan and France imply that England’s leniency or incompetence is to blame for America’s behavior, framing him as a “failed child.”

These portrayals may have strongly influenced the fan perception that America is a product of England’s failed parenting.

However, it is important to recognize that the original context of this “failed child” narrative stems not from America’s immaturity, but from England’s emotional pain and frustration over being surpassed by someone he once cared for. America was not depicted as an underdeveloped adult, but rather as someone who grew too strong—so much so that England’s protective role was rendered obsolete.

Given Hetalia’s frequent use of gag-style exaggeration, it is more appropriate to treat these instances as inconsistent tonal shifts rather than canonical retcons.

There are also works that frame the guardian–dependent dynamic as a cherished memory. In the 2011 illustration titled “Before the Inevitable Farewell,” a young America and Canada are seen peacefully sleeping under dappled sunlight, with their heads resting on England’s lap. England gazes down at America’s sleeping face with a gentle expression, but a scar on his cheek hints at battle elsewhere, implying that his time with the children was a form of healing for him as well.

To readers, this may appear to idealize England as a loving guardian and America (and Canada) as children in his care. However, as the title suggests, the scene presumes that this gentle arrangement will come to an end with America’s independence. In this light, the dynamic depicted here cannot be applied to their current relationship.

Finally, it is worth noting the discrepancy that can arise between Himaruya’s narrative intent and how readers interpret certain depictions. As of 2025, the ongoing Hetalia World☆Stars: Gangsta is set in a parallel world, but many of its characters resemble their mainline counterparts. As such, it provides valuable insight into their canonical dynamics.

According to official character notes, Lord (the counterpart to England) “used to dote on Hero (America) like a younger brother,” but as Hero matured—becoming more self-assured and taller—a sense of distance grew between them. Now, they are “rival-like figures who trust each other and constantly challenge one another.”

This setting clearly frames the guardian–dependent relationship as something in the past, while emphasizing present equality and rivalry. It is a deliberate contrast of past and present.

However, some scenes in Gangsta still show behavior that appears protective: for example, Lord covers Hero’s eyes to shield him from the sight of France (Parran) writhing sensually in distress, or he offers to pay off Hero’s overdue tribute money. These actions could be interpreted as overprotective or “parental.”

What these examples reveal is this: Even when certain actions may appear to reflect a guardian–dependent relationship, they do not necessarily define the present relationship. If we interpret these behaviors consistently with the established setting, they are better understood as remnants of a past connection, rather than indicators of current roles.

The same interpretive lens can—and should—be applied to the original Hetalia canon as well.

3. Conclusion

As we have seen, the critique of the US–UK pairing as "incestuous" lacks validity from any reasonable standpoint.

Impressions such as "they look like a parent and child" or "they seem like siblings" are not being dismissed outright. However, using those impressions as grounds to ethically deny the possibility of the USUK pairing is unsubstantiated. And relying on impressions like that risks missing the point of how their relationship actually works in canon—it can seriously limit how we understand or explore their dynamic.

This is because their relationship can no longer be adequately understood within the former framework of "guardian and dependent." Rather, it appears to be a bond sustained by two independent entities who continue to choose to relate to one another through mutual intent.

While America has relinquished institutional ties through his independence from England, he has since actively chosen to maintain a relationship with him. On the other hand, England, after years of struggling with his own emotions, seems to have finally come to face them—and while he may still waver at times, he genuinely cherishes the bond he now has with America. The fact that their connection continues to this day suggests it is based not on hierarchy or dependency, but on mutual trust and understanding.

From this angle, labeling US–UK as "incestuous" fails to account for how their relationship has evolved—and continues to evolve—in canon. It risks flattening a complex and thoughtful dynamic into something reductive, which is ultimately a loss for any reader trying to engage with the story more deeply.

Afterword What has been discussed in this paper is intended solely as a rebuttal against interpretations or criticisms that claim the US–UK pairing is "ethically problematic." It does not deny or diminish the readings that find a familial or sibling-like affection in their relationship, nor the appeal that such readings hold. The multilayered and flexible nature of interpretation that Hetalia offers allows each fan the freedom to imagine and embrace the relationship in their own way. Finally, I would like to reaffirm that this paper is presented as one perspective among many within that broad spectrum of understanding.

#hetalia #hetalia meta #usuk #aph usuk #ukus #aph ukus #aph america #aph england

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fresne999 · 1 month ago

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Murderbot - Ep 3-5

So, um, this is very long. I am very much enjoying the show. I very much enjoy the books. I think they complement each other in interesting ways. While also understanding that not everything hits for everyone. See also, folks I was *sure* would like the Good Place and bounced right off.

Anyway, post Covers Ep3-5 (which I watched last night).

I continue to find the places of divergence between books and tv show fascinating, if ultimately symbiotic.

Anywho, many thoughts.

All Systems Red (ASR) versus TV - Pin-Lee Researching the Satellite

Rewatching Ep 3, I was once again struck by the difference between how Pin-Lee's research into the satellite glitches is handled book vs show.

Quick note,

-book Pin-Lee - she,

-tv Pin-Lee - they

Book Pin-Lee looks into the glitches. MB tells us that it's noticed this because the company requires that its SecUnits watch / listen to every private moment of clients and analyze for minable data, but does not tell Pres-Aux / the team that it has been monitoring Pin-Lee's research.

Tv Pin-Lee gets the same moment with a significant difference.

They state that they've been researching the glitches, get a "What really" (tagging for later) and tv-MB backs them up.

Doylistically, this lets Pres-Aux (and the audience) know that data mining is a thing that is happening without it being a voice over, which works in 1st person narrative, but less well in a show.

Non-Murderbot Digression about Security Versus Privacy

I write about this for a living, so let's take a moment to hyperfocus shall we…

Security is about protecting people/things/data from bad things happening.

Privacy is about defining individuals' rights to control their own data.

Privacy and Security intersect, but they are not the same thing.

To get some terms out of the way, a Data Subject is an identifiable natural person (i.e., not a legal entity like DeltFall) whose personal information is being collected and used, and *may* have certain rights with regards to their data.

Because there is no uniform law, these rights may vary. But collectively these rights are referred to as Data Subject Access Rights (DSAR) and most often include: knowing what data is collected and why, and by extension the right to consent or object to that collection/use, ability to correct errors, and a right (under certain circumstances) to have your data removed.

Where most people encounter consent agreements is Terms of Service, which is the consent document. So do actually read them, so you know what you agreed to. They also toggles in privacy and security settings.

If you live in a place with defined privacy rights.

Privacy rights may vary wildly.

In a totalitarian / capitalist hellscape, an individual might not have DSAR. This is relevant because CorpRim is a Capitalist hellscape.

Back to What this Scene says about Privacy / Lack In Pres-Aux vs CorpRim

For book Pres-Aux I have no sense if they know that MB/HubSystem are watching them every moment or not. I mean, book-MB tells us everyone knows it, but ASR is so deeply in MB's POV it's hard at times to know what Pres-Aux characters know/don't know.

And fairly significantly, when writing cross cultural documentation, it's important to understand that it's easy to make assumptions. We the viewers neither live in the CorpRim (I mean, I feel you, but I have DSAR where I live/work), nor do we live in the Preservation Alliance, which is socialistic and communal. Mind you, the part of me that is really interested in how pre-modern society barter systems work is really interested in this -- particularly as it applies to women's labor -- but doubts I'll get much detail either way.

In the show, the DSAR of it all is explicit. Pin-Lee did not know, because they react to MB telling them their logs are being reviewed, and they take this as an invasion of privacy.

To be clear, I don't think this means that as a lawyer, Pin-Lee should have read where the contract said that the Company could data mine Pres-Aux logs, because I don't think the contract needed to mention it at all, or for that matter mention they are being watched at all times.

In the Corporate Rim, no one has DSAR. Everyone is the product and no one has privacy of any kind.

It's something everyone in the Corporate Rim knows, but is not written down.

This is a lovely example of cross-cultural misunderstanding.

Because I'm fairly certain the Preservation Alliance does have defined privacy rights for their residents.

Unless Pin-Lee is a privacy lawyer (rather than a corporate), I'm not sure they would have a reason to know that. The focus of a Privacy lawyer is ensuring that customers/residents have their rights followed. The purpose of a corporate lawyer is to ensure that the corporation/legal entity they represent interests are supported. They are different focuses.

And other Privacy Violations

It's why I'm glad shortly thereafter we see MB watching Gurathin go into Mensah's room/sniff her pillow. Because (pure speculation) this information is going to come out in a MB - Gurathin spat.

Both what MB is doing and what Gurathin are doing are violations of privacy.

MB's is the legal privacy DSAR context expressed above. Gurathin's violation is more rooted in the idea of privacy in one's domicile. Or possibly not. It's possible, he has permission to go in there and seek comfort when he needs it. Not sure. There's a very interesting dynamic between Mensah and Gurathin, which I suspect has a great deal to do with the trauma of coming from the Corporate Rim and Mensah getting him out of the Corporate Rim.

Hyperfocus - Pin-Lee and the What Up the Satellite

I realize that everyone in fandom has zoomed in on Gurathin as neuro spicy, but I would like to argue that they are missing the bus on Pin-Lee as equally (if not the same) spicy.

While deciding to research something in one's spare time isn't necessarily a sign of hyperfocus, nor being neuro diverse, a lot of Pin-Lee's interactions (relationship by contract, hiding interests, satellite research) are pinging neuro diverse bells for me, but presented in a way that…look I don't want to misgender tv Pin-Lee, but they ping a lot of information / signs for neuro-divergence in women being under reported.

Anyway, Ratthi saying an equivalent of "No you didn't" in response to Pin-Lee saying they are researching satellite malfunctions comes across as Ratthi is aware this is something Pin-Lee would do, but is being playful in the same way as, "Who is this?" on seeing MB without a helmet.

While to MB, it's Ratthi saying, "No you didn't." Flat denial. Much as book MB took Ratthi as not recognizing it without the helmet, "Who is this?"

MB has been watching Pin-Lee conduct analysis. MB conducts analysis. Half-assedly because it hates the Company, but certainly book MB seems to enjoy analysis once it can do it for its own purposes.

So tv MB see's Pin-Lee conduct analysis, and speaks up in Pin-Lee's defence, and immediately regrets it.

Yes, this then tangents into the whole discussion around privacy / lack thereof, but at it's basis, MB's motivation is still to speak up for a person who is hyper focusing, and hasn't repeatedly spoken about melting it down, etc.

Doesn't put them on the same wavelength, because there's lots of plot to go, but it's some interesting foundational leg work.

Auto Grinding

If I'm understanding correctly, when Ratthi tells Pin-Lee and Arada his level on shooter-videogame, Pin-Lee's response is to suggest that Ratthi has set up code to play the game for him so he can get to that level.

His reaction to this statement makes me think that is exactly what Ratthi is doing. It's some interesting character development congruent as it is to the self-loathing as expressed by his rant about being too hung over for weapons training and recontextualizes his Golden Retriever surface.

That he decides to go try to rescue Mensah is an interesting play with tropes of hyper masculinity.

He's choosing to take action when he doesn't know what he's doing and is just as likely to be a detriment. It's action media-its video-game, I know what I'm doing. But he also compliments Arada and Pin-Lee, asks for their help, acknowledges they were right about the setting thing, isn't embarrassed to have bonked himself in the head, and cheers when they arrive / deal with other SecUnit.

This plays into the moment when he says that Seccy is their friend. "That's right, I'm a SecUnit's friend." It's simultaneously standing up for MB, because Ratthi is a sweetie, reacting to LeBeeBee's WTF energy, but also part of the narrative that Ratthi's telling in his own head. Badass/friend to a SecUnit, yeah.

This is a premature statement. He's not (yet). There are many miles to Babylon, and they haven't gone there and back again.

Arada and the Wind Chimes

Arada bringing a gift for DeltFall is simultaneously profoundly midwest US "Don't show up without a casserole dish", and Proto-Indo-European guest/host obligations, and also seems somewhat idiosyncratic to Arada.

After all, it's not, they consensus discuss that they need to bring a thing as uninvited guests to DeltFall, and decide what that thing is. Arada decides to bring a thing. A thing she made out of found material.

On one hand, it's very '70s macrame art, but simultaneously, there's that moment when the throuple (for the length of the contract) are about to go into the hopper. Ratthi wants to make way for Pin-Lee, and they want to make way for Ratthi, and Arada walks through the middle, because she'll go first per usual.

This strikes me as less neuro-spicy than Arada has made some choices about how she's going to live her life. She's not going to awkwardly do the "You, no you." thing. She's just going to go first. She made a wind chime. Giving gifts feels good. She's giving the wind chime away.

She wants to make connections.

It's an interesting expansion on Arada from the books who is nice, doesn't want people to be hurt, but I don't know much more about her.

Again, that works in the books, because we are so deeply embedded in MB's point of view, but in an expanded story, getting additional characterization is useful.

Identifiable Individuals

To get back to Privacy, when the Corporation manufactured SecUnits with unique faces, they made identifiable individuals.

I mean, for the purposes of privacy law no SecUnit isn't a natural person, but we get into this interesting space that by hacking its governor module, MB is not freeing itself. Legally within the Corporate Rim, it is enslaved property governor module or not. Physically MB is not freeing itself, it is still on a Corporate Rim mine surrounded by Corporate Rim security / infrastructure.

But by hacking its governor module, it is granting itself control of its own data / thoughts / choice of actions. It's taking the DSAR it has not been granted.

Tthe tv show is making me think about MB as an identifiable individual in a way the books -- which I adore and love and have read many times -- didn't because book MB has never had a face for me.

I mean, yes, I know it has a face, that has definitely been a key point that comes up time to time, but because maybe because 1st person narrative, I have been behind the face not in front of it.

I get others have a definite idea what MB looks like, but, okay years ago I wrote a story that featured (among others) a sentient block of stone. She identifies female, but she is an eight foot tall obsidian monolith. Who can move (and joins a girl's sports team for plot reasons, but I have about as much sense of book MB's appearance as the monolith.

Giving it a face has been a shift in perspective that I'm not sure will carry over to reading the books, because they are very separate experiences. Only time will tell.

Creating Chronically Depressed Individuals

The opening scene of creating SecUnits was a delightfully economical way to get across to the viewer that in the Corporate Rim no one has autonomy. Humans work long indentures where individuals expect not to survive because to the corporation, they are as disposable as a construct or bot.

The way many of the workers are dressed in hazmat outfits with glassy faceplates, creates a visual similarity between humans and SecUnits.

"Have some pride in your work," yeah, no.

The difference between MB's narration about the control and cleanliness of the creation of SecUnits versus the reality, and yet that line about accidentally creating a chronically depressed MB gives lie to the narration. That it flashes back later to images of its creation and that it was able to reconstruct what happened while it was -- technically speaking -- dead makes me think it knows exactly how much care went into its creation.

Also, there's an interesting punch down quality to the indentured worker telling MB's disembodied head that it will kick it's ass. The repetition of the story that SecUnit's go rogue all the time.

Corporations have media that tells people SecUnits always go rogue. Don't trust them.

It reminds me of race-class narrative discussions about how the elite / corporations create divides between natural allies so they don't go, "The reason my life sucks is the person with five yachts and twenty houses." and instead go, "XYZ is stealing my job! / are the reason the world is on fire."

LeBeeBee - WTF Gurl

The only question my friends and I had after finishing watching was: EvilCorp agent or ComfortUnit/Evil Corp construct? There is no way she's on the level.

But I do see where she is a necessary addition / divergence from the books.

Because the ASR is a very quick read, it's hard to notice that we/the characters don't actually interact with anyone from EvilCorp until very late in the story. I mean yes, fighting a SecUnit, but that's a bit different from in person interaction.

What we get in the book is MB speculating to itself (so much internal speculation for MB) that someone pretended to be PresAux to gain access to DeltFall to kill them. Also, in the book (as here), there's a fight with an EvilCorp SecUnit, but we don't see its Corp handler. Despite having established elsewhere that SecUnits (though it can be lengthened) have a distance limit from their handlers/protectees.

Edited -- apparently that's not how it goes in the book (as a friend reminded me on a different platform(DW), but while writing this I had such a clear image of reading this bit. Hmmm…a dream. Me being like MB remembering GanakaPit. Well, hopefully not. Anyway, in the book it's PresAux discussing to get to this realization, which shows MB-PresAux interaction, instead of a more contained MB-Mensah interaction. With that lovely little realization that it is having a conversation. Anyway… back to the original post.

So introducing obviously sus LeBeeBee allows for that very nice quick cut of tv MB talking with Mensah / speculating that EvilCorpy pretended to be PresAux kill-kill-kill, cross cut with LeBeeBee being obviously sus.

Ominous LeBeeBee is ominous.

The part where she asks Gurathin if she can get him something from the MedUnit (and thereby get access to it - poison/drugs) or food (and thereby get access to it - poison it) is um…look she's sus.

I sort of go two ways on LeBeeBee's sexualized conversation.

I tend to think she's being deliberately off putting so everyone avoids asking her questions. The journey back where she starts speculating on MB's non-existent pee-pee is…Jebus I have been in so many awkward conversations over the years and everyone's WTF is just so relatable. In a flight, fright, freeze, fawn, situation, they freeze / flight.

But I also think it's an indicator of punching down. I suspect LeBeeBee is indentured. I mean, I think everyone in the Corporation Rim is in some sort of contract. Like the workers who the more shifts they do (unless they die), the faster their indenture is done, this mission is more time off her indenture. The "Don't look at me / you stop looking at me," and the kiss are both retaliatory / punch down.

As we get even deeper into speculation, if LeBeeBee is a SecUnit handler, she knows that they have faces and not other bits, and it is entirely possible that she regularly punches down / sexualizes the SecUnits under her control as a way of striking out a corporation that she can't touch. We'll find out.

MB Figuring Out Its Own Rescue

In the book, MB chooses where to shoot itself based on that being a recoverable spot, and expects as an expensive piece of equipment to be revived.

TV MB didn't. I'm not sure I'd call it sacrificing itself exactly, because the shooting itself is very much part of the realization that it is about to lose autonomy. That it's fate is to be trapped in its own body, killing everyone, to become the stereotype of a rogue murderbot (lower case), and in it's words, "Fuck that."

So there's this interesting quality of it going, "Why did I sacrifice myself, if I'm just going to end up there anyway." because it does not yet trust PresAux to be capable of saving it. But they are.

I really love that Bharadwaj is getting a highlight here.

In the books, she's this sort of second-remove character where MB will talk about talking with her, about things / the documentary, but there's very little in person dialog. So the series is doing a great job of characterizing her for me in a way the books (as novellas in 1st person) don't have room for, and I'd like to carry over into my thinking when I re-read the books the next time.

Why is Pres-Aux on Survey?

Rewatching Ep 3, reminded me that I really like that tv show adds Mensah talking about how some people in PresAux want to join the CorpRim, and Preservation Alliance is resource…"not rich" as an explanation for why Pres-Aux is there and that provides a context to something that isn't really explained in the the books / MB don't care.

To wit, why are they surveying the planet at all?

Preservation Alliance took an option on the planet, for which they had to go through the CorpRim. Why? Mensah's speciality is terraforming. Why go to this planet?

Neither book nor tv Mensah want to take on a SecUnit, but they want to go enough to agree.

Why?

The tv show gives a possible answer.

Preservation Alliance may be consensual, socialistic/basic income, but also not infinite in resources, and humans are by nature fallible. We don't always think through the consequences of things. Like the paternalistic way Preservation Alliance defines construct/bot rights.

It gets at that sometimes, because people have needs, we compromise on our principles to get something or avoid something.

By explicitly articulating that PresAux has a reason to be there, that opens up more plot path arcs for the other characters in future (please) seasons.

But also opens up some of the internal conflict we're seeing in the episodes so far. MB is a person, but that is an abstract concept. Its you support immigrant rights in social media versus you contact your reps in support of immigrant rights/donate/volunteer/are ready to go to a protest at an ICE detention facility where you expect to be pepper sprayed and arrested.

So to bring us back around, when the moment comes down to it, there are discussions about whether to rescue MB or not. Pin-Lee with Mensah, and later back at PresAux.

Principles are a first step. Action based on principles is harder the more personal cost there is the principle and the show is illuminating that beautifully.

So its a very lovely touch of Mensah knowing what she has to do to stick to her principles, but she's afraid. Having Mensah just go do the action, puts her in the realm of the unrealistic space adventurer. A title she explicitly rejects.

That there are physical consequences before after living up to principles is part of the reality of the thing.

Hair

Can't express how much I loved MB's little Sanctuary Moon delusion. It gave itself a Pike's peak, huzzah.

So not to deny what I already said, but the MB's physical characteristic I remember the most from the book is from Artificial Condition where it spends pages talking about not having body hair. Not an offhand reference, pages

Which is why I am very delighted Alexander Skarsgard (on his own it sounds like) got full body waxed because he grokked that it's something MB has thought about / thinks about / will think about.

So giving MB a Pike's Peak in the fantasy is fascinating. That's bouffant. That's glowing colors. That's bright visuals. That's MB's happy place. Also, possibly one that got deleted by the combat override.

It's not real that moment with the intrepid Captain Mensah with the amazing braid. MB isn't quite ready for real interaction.

Sanctuary Moon in General

The show within the show reminds me so much of the science fiction dramas that I loved (adored, sang along to) as a kid/young adult. It's ST:OS, which I watched obsessively whenever it was on, and it's Buck Rogers (where is Princess Ardala with her Space-Dynasty clothes?), and Logan's Run (with the future-mini van), and original Battlestar Galactica (space angels!), and…so many cheesy shows that didn't make it past half a season.

It's big and over the top and I'm right there with you MB. Unashamedly love the thing you love.

Seeing MB articulate that hyper fixation is so lovely, and the more it opens up about it, defends it, the better.

Because my absolute favorite scene from the book is where Ratthi very cleverly establishes MB is watching the show by bringing up a plot point that you just know in universe fandom circles was this huge flamewar thing.

It's watching the show.

It's loving the show.

What Gurathin, you don't know Sanctuary Moon.

Crap, you say.

Them's fighting words.

Seeing it even subtly expanded on with additional details was lovely. I also understand why they delay learning MB's private name for itself. The viewer/characters are already about to the shock of SecUnit lifting Guarthin by the neck, it softens the scene a bit, but also gives us chance for Gurathin to reveal the information later.

Again, that's a private name, and this is such a show and book series with an understanding of privacy issues. Because the loss of privacy of that information could be detrimental to MB. It named itself Murderbot, and they are depending on it for safety.

Anyway, looking forward to the delayed reveal.

Out in the Open

I'm fascinated by how MBs speech cadence changes with the combat unit forward. There's a lot less speech wobble, hesitancy. Once it spits out that they need to kill it, it's speech is much smoother.

First, declarations, such as letting Guarthin know that it doesn't like him. Ah, my poor traumatized character, you and Gura are very similar and that's why. Also, he's been a jerk to you for completely understandable reasons, but I understand not liking someone who has said that he wants to have you melted down for parts at the end of the mission. I mean, MB wasn't there, but I assume MB watched that. I also assume Gurathin of anyone knew that MB would see / hear him say that.

The dynamics of that scene are mostly interesting to me because of Mensah. She de-escalates the scene (just as she does in the book) to get MB to let Gurathin go.

But then the show extends on the interaction. She negotiates for MB to continue to protect them, because they need MB.

In this moment, she shows she respects MB's autonomy and ability to say no. Offers it something it will want, help to get away from the Company.

She continues on the trend of asking MB to do things and successfully getting the result she (her people) need, while doing so in a way that lets me/the viewer know she's uncomfortable with its attack on Gurathin.

Lets Go Set Off a Bomb

I think MB set itself up a bit for the conversation about Mensah's kids. It's the reverse of the conversation with Arada out of the worm pit that revealed its face to the team.

Mensah is trying to create connection by talking about her kids. Before broaching more serious subjects. Also, I think it speaks to Mensah being from a society that welcomes/accepts/celebrates sharing, interaction, community, emotion.

Doylistially, it also gives Mensah an opportunity to self-correct using one of her children's pronouns, which is a nice touch.

But um, MBs not ready to talk about her kids.

But they do have a conversation. It's first. Back and forth. Ideas. Recognizable because of shows. While also, setting up for the non-book reading audience LeBeeBee's deal.

All as prelude before getting to Mensah's actual point, the subject of, "Hey, choking Gurathin, not cool."

Alas, this is a serial and a giant bomb (that's what a rocket can be) interrupt.

Until more revelations next week.

Well, two weeks from now for me.

#murderbot #murderbot tv show #murderbot tv #Risk Assessment #Escape Velocity Protocol #Rogue War Tracker Infinite #murerbot meta

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