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timelesslords · 4 years ago

Note

prompts: could you write an in canon verse (so like gods and stuff are real) fic with amnesia? it could be post TLO or it could be one of them coming out of anesthesia and feeling wonky. i just love a good memory loss fic.

@halfbloodcarrie was instrumental in making this happen!!! Her adorable fluffy idea was completely paid dust in favor of making this angsty as hell but I blame her for me getting it done at all <3

read on AO3

Everything was dark. And everything hurt. His head especially was throbbing, but he couldn’t make out any other feeling. He could hear something; vague at first, just a ringing. But if he struggled, and he did, he could start to make out faint voices. His eyes refused to open, they wouldn’t even blink, but the noises were getting clearer by the second.

“What if he doesn’t wake up?” a worried voice asked. Something about it felt familiar, but he couldn’t even pry his eyes open, much less figure out who it belonged to.

“He’ll wake up,” a second voice said, male this time. He sounded confident, assured. At least he thought so.

“There was so much blood, I thought… gods.”

The first voice again, though this time it wavered. It sounded scared, terrified even.

“He’ll be alright, Annabeth. He’s got a thick skull.”

That made the first voice laugh, watery as it was.

“Don’t I know it.”

Some feeling was starting to return to his limbs, slowly but surely. He tried blinking again, but it felt sluggish, slow. Suddenly he realized he could feel his arms and fingers, and there was a hand in his, gripping it so tightly it was a wonder he hadn’t felt it before.

“Percy?” the female voice asked, hopeful. He groaned. His head was pounding like nothing he’d ever felt before. Actually, he wasn’t sure if that was true, because he couldn’t remember his head pounding before, ever.

Come to think of it, he couldn’t remember anything at all.

He blinked again, this time managing to pry his eyelids open a fraction of a degree. The light streaming in hurt like a bitch, and he groaned again, closing his eyes.

“Percy,” the first voice said again, more frantically, “Can you hear me?”

She seemed to be talking to him, though he wasn’t quite sure. He couldn’t remember his name, but she’d said Percy twice, so that had to be it, didn’t it?

He tried to say something to the girl, but it came out as a strangled groan of pain.

“Will,” she said, a little desperately.

“He’s maxed out, Annabeth, I’m sorry,” the other voice said.

The girl (Annabeth?) muttered something under her breath in-- was that Greek? And how did he know that? More determined than ever, Percy blinked again, this time managing to crack his eyelids open and keep them that way.

His vision was blurry, but a few more blinks and the vague shapes in front of him started to sharpen into focus.

“Percy?” the girl said again. Percy squinted, trying to focus on her.

The first thing he noticed was that she was-- well, pretty didn’t quite describe it. She was seriously beautiful. Her eyes were a dark grey color, currently wide with concern, her hair framing her face in cascades of golden curls. Her nose was small and button shaped, dotted with freckles.

Even if Percy didn’t currently feel like a small blacksmith’s forge was hammering on the inside of his skull, he was pretty sure he would’ve been rendered pretty speechless.

“Hey there, sleepyhead. You were out for a while,” she said, smiling. She did look relieved, but Percy didn’t miss the genuine worry behind her eyes either, the little waver along her lips trying to maintain an upbeat expression.

“I… what’s going on?” Percy asked. Annabeth bit her lip, looking over her shoulder. Percy glanced upwards, properly seeing the other person in the room for the first time. He was a teenager, with shaggy blonde hair a shade or two lighter than the girl’s. He was wearing a white lab coat over what looked to be an orange t-shirt and jeans, which didn’t exactly instill Percy with a lot of confidence in whatever medical care he was receiving.

Of course, the fact that he had no memory didn’t help matters.

“You sort of got hit in the head,” Annabeth said, wincing as she did.

“Really hard,” the boy added.

Percy reached up tentatively, to the place where it felt like his skull was splitting inside out. Instead of skin he felt something else, some thick sort of fabric.

“Ow,” he said, a little unhelpfully. The girl smiled again-- crap, how was she even more beautiful when she smiled?-- but it still had an edge of sadness to it.

“Yeah. Discus accident,” she said.

“Discus accident?” Percy asked, confused.

“Yeah. Those stone frisbee things, remember?” the other guy said.

“No,” Percy said, pushing himself into a sitting position. It made his head throb, but he couldn’t stand lying down anymore. “I don’t-- I don’t remember anything.”

“You mean-- you mean you don’t remember the accident,” Annabeth said, a little forcefully. Her grey eyes flashed, and Percy didn’t quite recognize the expression, but something in his gut told him it was not good.

“No, I mean I don’t remember anything,” Percy repeated, figuring it was best to get it out of the way sooner or later, “I don’t know where I am or who you are or who I am.”

The girl took one very long look at him. He didn’t know what exactly he had said in particular that had triggered something in her, but the concern fell from her face in an instant. She dropped his hand, something sharp overtaking her expression.

“You’re such an ass sometimes,” she said. Her voice was a little thick, but Percy couldn’t tell if she was crying, because in the next second she stood and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Inadvertently, Percy felt a twinge of something sad in his chest, though he couldn’t quite place why. He didn’t know Annabeth, but she clearly seemed to know him, and what he’d said had clearly set her off.

All of this was really not improving his headache, which had resumed its throbbing with reckless abandon.

“I didn’t mean to…” Percy trailed off. To what? Upset her? Make her run away? But all he’d done was tell the honest truth-- he couldn’t remember shit. The guy was giving him a look that was bordering on disgust.

“Dude, that’s really not funny,” he said. He sounded pissed, though if Percy wasn’t entirely mistaken, there was a hint of fear behind his bright blue eyes.

“I’m not trying to be funny, I literally don’t know what’s going on,” Percy said, starting to feel a little frantic. Why was everyone here acting like they knew him? And why did he not even know him? He felt nerves and something else tugging in his gut, an insistent, terrifying pull--

Without warning, the glass next to his bed shattered, spraying water and glass everywhere. Percy flinched away from the table, whirling around to look at the boy. His eyes were wide and surprised.

“What the fuck was that?” Percy asked, alarmed.

“That was… you,” the boy said, staring at Percy like he had just grown a second head, “Styx, you’re not making this up, are you?”

“How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t know what’s going on for you to believe me?” Percy said, still staring wide-eyed at the place where the cup had shattered. For his own sanity, he decided to ignore the boy’s declaration that he had caused it.

“Four, apparently,” the boy said, rubbing his forehead like he could feel a headache coming on, “Unless you want to make it five for good measure?”

“I have absolutely no memory,” Percy repeated.

“Great. This is just-- this is awesome,” the boy said, sighing heavily.

“Yeah, I’m having so much fun over here,” Percy said dryly.

“Right, sorry,” the boy said, wincing, “Your name is Percy.”

So Percy had guessed that correctly. Good to know.

“My name is Will,” the boy continued, oblivious to Percy’s thoughts, “The girl was--”

“Annabeth,” Percy finished. Will perked up, hopeful, but Percy shook his head.

“I heard you say her name,” Percy explained. Will deflated.

“Oh, right,” he said. He sounded inordinately disappointed, way more disappointed than he’d been when Percy hadn’t remembered him.

“How exactly did this happen?” Percy asked, doing his best not to rub his forehead again. Will sighed.

“Some newbies were messing around with the discuses on the strawberry fields-- which is stupidly dangerous, by the way, we have an arena for a reason-- but it went a little off course and almost hit Annabeth in the face. You shoved her out of the way but it clipped your forehead pretty good.”

Percy tried to process all that, piece by piece. He didn’t know what a newbie was, and apparently wherever this place was had strawberry fields that he and Annabeth had been in together? But the strangest thing of all was that Percy didn’t feel at all surprised that he’d gotten injured trying to get Annabeth out of the way. That piece felt strangely right to him, even if everything else was messy and confusing.

“So me and Annabeth are friends, then?” he asked. Will gave him a strange look, his face paling slightly.

“You guys… you’re close. Really close.”

Percy nodded. That made sense. He didn’t know why Will was being weird about it, but he believed him regardless.

“She was mad at me,” Percy noted. At this, Will winced.

“Yeah. Memory loss… it's kind of a sore subject for her.”

“Why?” Percy asked. Maybe it was a little invasive, but this was all stuff he was supposed to know anyway, wasn’t it?

Will sighed, rubbing his face in his hands.

“Gods, I’m so not the person to be explaining this to you,” he said, “But a few years ago you sort of… disappeared. And you lost all your memories. Except you remembered her. But it was really, really tough on her, she had no idea if you were gonna know anything or not when she found you.”

Percy blinked, trying to take all that in. He had a feeling that was the hyper-condensed version of what had gone down, but it explained the situation well enough. Annabeth hadn’t considered the fact that he genuinely wouldn’t remember her, so she’d assumed it was a bad joke. Percy wished it was a bad joke, because he would give absolutely anything to remember more about her.

“Got it,” Percy said, trying not to frown, “So how did I get my memories back last time? Can we do that again?”

Will grimaced.

“I think last time you drank gorgon’s blood, but we’re fresh out of that.”

Percy stared at him, unsure if he was joking or not. He looked serious, but Percy didn’t want to press it. Clearly last time had been a different sort of deal.

“So what do we do? I can’t go around like this forever.”

“Well, hopefully it's just temporary. Your head injury, plus the mortal pain meds we gave you, plus the nectar--”

“The what?” Percy asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” Will said, a little hurriedly. “The point is, your brain is processing a lot of stuff right now. My best guess is that it overloaded a bit, and the amnesia is a side effect. If that’s the case it should go away on its own eventually.”

“And if it’s not the case?” Percy asked, dreading the answer a little. As predicted, WIll grimaced again.

“It could be from the initial injury. In which case it would be… more permanent.”

Percy’s mouth went a little dry.

“Goodie.”

“It probably isn’t,” Will said, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced.

“So what do we do?” Percy asked again.

“You could try going to sleep. It might give your brain a chance to readjust, chill out a little. Or…”

Will trailed off, clearly unwilling to finish his thought.

“Or?” Percy prompted.

“Or we could try to jog your memory with stuff you might remember,” Will finished. Percy didn’t understand why this option seemed to be so unpleasant to Will, since it made the most sense to him. He felt disoriented as hell, and he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to be able to calm his mind down enough to sleep anytime soon. Plus, he was pretty sure he’d been unconscious for a good long while.

“How long was I asleep just now?” Percy asked.

“A while,” Will admitted.

“So let’s try the other thing.”

Will swallowed heavily, his fingers gripping the sides of his white coat a little too tightly.

“Yeah. Okay,” he said, still not sounding happy about it at all, “I’ll-- ugh. Don’t move, I’ll be right back.”

Percy did not move, mostly because he didn’t think he could get up from his bed if he tried. Being alone gave him the chance to observe the room he was in a little bit. It was small but clean, sort of a cross between a normal bedroom and a hospital unit. The walls were made of old looking hardwood, and if he craned his head back a little bit he could almost see out the window. It looked green out there, but it was kind of hard to tell.

Nothing about this place felt familiar, but that didn’t mean much, given nothing Percy had experienced since waking up felt familiar.

Nothing except for those few flashes of feeling he’d gotten about Annabeth, anyway.

Will was gone for a long time, a lot longer than Percy had been expecting. He couldn’t tell time very well and he didn’t see a clock anywhere, but it felt like Will had to have been gone at least half an hour, maybe more. Just when Percy was about to give up and try taking a nap, the door opened again. Will was there, but this time Annabeth was in tow too.

Percy tried not to read too hard into the fact that she didn’t look happy to be there. If he wasn’t mistaken, her eyes were puffy and red from crying, though now they were narrowed in barely constrained anger, her arms folded over her chest.

Will, for his part, looked extremely nervous. That didn’t give Percy a lot of hope about how this was going to go.

“It would probably work better if you could get up and walk around, but well…” he trailed off, but Percy knew exactly why that wasn’t possible. Just keeping his eyes open had been a struggle, and he was pretty sure if he tried to stand right now he was gonna black out.

“Yeah, sounds like a bad idea,” he agreed. Annabeth said nothing, just kept staring with her jaw clenched tight.

“I figured-- you know, you remembered Annabeth last time,” Will said, still sounding nervous, “And you guys have known each other for years, so if anything is going to jog your memory… well.”

“Okay,” Percy said, easily.

Annabeth remained silent.

“I’ll leave you guys alone,” Will said, looking like he absolutely couldn’t wait to get out of the room. He did a second later, slipping out the door and shutting it behind him.

Annabeth looked extraordinarily unhappy to be there. Any care that she had displayed for him when he first woke up was apparently gone. She said nothing as she looked at him with nothing but ice in her eyes.

He didn’t know why exactly she was so pissed-- it wasn’t his fault he couldn’t remember anything, and wouldn’t it be worse for him anyway? But she didn’t seem keen on speaking to him anytime soon, and Percy figured it was up to him to break the ice.

“So, um. Are you single?” Percy asked. It was dumb, sure, but he didn’t remember shit, and this girl was pretty and she seemed to care about him and well? Might as well shoot his shot.

Annabeth muttered something under her breath, something that sounded suspiciously like I’m going to kill you. Cool. Definitely did not make her hotter to him, not even a little bit.

“I’m not single,” she said, practically glaring at him.

“Got it. Sorry,” Percy said. For just a second her eyes ducked away, sadness replacing anger. But then she looked back up, and her previous expression was reinstated.

“Why don’t we just stick to you,” she said.

“Sure,” Percy said. He didn't want to make her mad again, because he had a feeling if that kept happening it would not end well for him. He wasn’t sure what could be worse than complete and total amnesia, but looking at Annabeth he was pretty sure she could think of something.

She took a deep breath, a little unsteadily.

“Your name is Percy,” she said, “I guess Will already told you that, though.”

Percy nodded. She moistened her lips, staring down at the ground.

“Okay. What else do you want to know?”

“Where are we?” Percy asked. It wasn’t his most urgent question, but it felt like a safer one to ask. Then again, from the look on Annabeth’s face, maybe that was a miscalculation. She was biting her lip, the anger in her expression softening slightly. It seemed to be replaced by something sad though, and Percy found he almost preferred the anger.

“It’s… a little hard to explain. But we’re at a camp. A summer camp. It’s-- it’s where we met.”

“Why are we here now?” Percy asked. Annabeth shrugged.

“We’re just visiting,” she said.

“Together?” Percy asked. She stared at him, swallowing heavily.

“Yeah. Together,” she said, though she was clearly unwilling to elaborate.

Okay then. Time for a new line of questioning. A safer line, one that hopefully wouldn’t put her on the verge of tears.

“What’s my favorite color?” he asked.

“Blue,” she said, instantly.

“Favorite food?”

“Anything blue,” she said, just as fast.

“I eat blue food?” Percy asked, confused. She smiled for the first time since he’d told her his memory was gone. It was small, but it still made his heart flutter.

“Yeah. It’s sort of an inside joke with you and your mom,” she said. The smile faded just as fast as it had come, but her answer had inadvertently given Percy more information than he’d expected.

“So I’m close to my mom?” Percy asked, unable to help it. Annabeth nodded again. She took a tentative step forward, sitting back down on the chair beside his bed.

“Who else?” he asked, without thinking. Annabeth frowned, a little confused.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“I mean--” Percy started, realizing this might be a little too much too soon, but wanting to know so badly he couldn’t help but ask anyway, “I mean, who else am I close to?”

Annabeth didn’t answer for a long minute. She was looking down at the ground again, her hands gripping her own shoulders, arms shielding her chest. She seemed to be contemplating something, though what it was, Percy wasn’t sure.

Maybe he shouldn’t have asked that question. Maybe it was too personal-- with a start Percy realized that Annabeth was probably a pretty high priority for him, given the scant details he knew about their relationship, and him not knowing that intrinsically had to hurt.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “Just forget it, tell me something else.”

She finally looked back up at him, though she still seemed upset and unsure.

“No, it’s fine,” she said, though she was clearly forcing her voice not to waver, “Like I said, you’re close to your mom, her name is Sally. You have a sister named Estelle and a brother named Tyson. And your best friend is--” she stumbled, but found herself again, “His name is Grover.”

Percy noticed that Annabeth’s own name was conspicuously absent from that list. Maybe he should keep his mouth shut, all things considered, but his curiosity got the best of him. He wanted to know this more than anything.

“What about you?” he asked, voice quiet.

It took her less time to answer than he expected, but she was still quiet for a minute.

“You asked me if I was single,” she said finally, eyes ducked down, a rosy blush growing in her cheeks, “And I said no because-- because we’re dating. We have been for a while.”

“Oh,�� Percy said. He could feel his own face getting red, even though this was kind of great news-- or maybe not so great news, considering his stupid brain still couldn’t remember shit. But it still felt right, like a puzzle piece slotting into place. Of course he was dating her. That was just correct, an inalienable fact he felt dumb for not knowing, despite not knowing anything at all.

“Yeah,” she said, “But you don’t remember, so… so I don’t know anymore, I guess.”

“I’m sorry,” Percy said, and he felt it. He felt like an idiot, both for trying to flirt with her earlier, and for not putting the pieces together sooner. The hand holding probably should have given it away, at the very least.

To his surprise, Annabeth gave him a small smile, even though her eyes were a little red. She wiped them on her sleeve, clearly trying not to do it in an obvious way.

“Sorry, it’s just-- that’s so you,” she said, sniffling a little.

“What’s so me?” Percy asked. He felt stupid, oblivious, but she just smiled again, a touch wider this time.

“Apologizing for something that isn’t even your fault.”

“I really am sorry,” Percy said, and he felt worse with every word, “I want to remember, I do, it’s just-- all of it’s gone.”

“I know,” she said. She sounded defeated. “I guess it would be too much to ask for you to remember me twice, huh?”

She said it like a joke, but Percy could feel the real pain behind her words. He felt an ache in his chest, like a phantom pain he couldn’t quite place, something in him mirroring her own hurt. He wanted so badly to comfort her, but he didn’t know how.

Or maybe he did. His brain was a jumbled mess, but he did know the only things that had made him feel anything since he’d woken up had to do with her.

“I… I almost get flashes,” he admitted, glancing up at her again. She wasn’t quite meeting his eye, looking somewhere over his shoulder, but he continued anyway. “When you say or do things… It’s like my body knows what to feel but my mind doesn’t know why.”

She glanced up, her eyes finally meeting his own. They were still shining with tears, though not as intensely as before.

“Like how?” she asked, simply. Percy swallowed heavily, not exactly sure what to say. It was hard to describe, given he’d barely recognized his own feelings.

“Like… like when you left, before. I was upset but I didn’t know why. I didn’t know you but I knew… I knew that was supposed to hurt, somehow. And when Will told me about how I got hurt in the first place, how I was trying to keep the frisbee thing from hitting you-- that felt right, but I don’t know why.”

She had graduated to crying in earnest now, tears slipping out of the corner of her eyes and falling down her cheeks. Percy felt the inexplicable urge to reach out and brush them away, but he knew he couldn’t. And that hurt too for some reason, a hollow aching in his chest he couldn’t quite place even though the reason for it was standing right in front of him.

“And right now,” Percy continued, even though maybe he shouldn’t, “You’re upset and I just feel this urge to do something, and I can’t because I don’t know how.”

“Percy, please--” she said, still crying, her voice rough with tears. He didn’t know what she was begging for, but he couldn’t help his next words slipping out, like his tongue knew more what to do than his mind.

“I don’t know anything about me, but I know-- I know I love you. I can feel it. I’m not just saying it either, I swear I can feel it.”

“Percy,” she said again, her voice barely above a whisper this time.

“You have to help me, Annabeth. I don’t know what to do,” he said, and this time it was his turn for his voice to get thick, a lump in his throat obscuring his words.

“I--” she started, swallowing heavily, eyes welling with tears again, “I don’t know what to do.”

“Yes you do,” Percy said, and he was sure she did, something in him just knew, “You always do, don’t you?”

That felt right too, even if he couldn’t place why, but it seemed to mean more to her than to him. She stared at him, eyes wide and scared. She was so close now, close enough that he could see every freckle on her nose.

Annabeth looked so panicked that for a second a second, Percy thought she was going to hit him, but then she did the opposite. She leaned over and kissed him.

Her lips were soft and sweet, and she tasted like strawberries and salt. His lips seemed to know exactly what to do, moving against hers like they’d kiss her a thousand times-- and maybe they had. His hand moved, almost of its own accord to her hair, tangling in it, pulling her a fraction of an inch closer--

And then it hit him. The scent of her shampoo, lemony and sharp and familiar.

He gasped, not meaning to, but she pulled back, grey eyes wide.

“Percy?” she asked, hopeful even as she tried to hide it.

“Annabeth,” he said, trying not to panic as things started to float through his mind-- more than things, memories. Her face and her voice and her words, the feeling of her hand in his and her smile against his lips, it all started to flood back like it had never left.

“Are you--” she asked, her hands on his shoulders, gripping tight, too tight, but he didn’t even care.

“Annabeth,” he breathed, saying her name like a revelation, because it was, “You’re Annabeth Chase, you’re my girlfriend and an architect and you’re scared to death of spiders and you still sleep with a teddy bear--”

She cut him off at that last point, throwing her arms around him and hugging him harder than she ever had-- except for maybe that time she’d thought he was dead for two weeks and he’d crashed his own funeral. Percy hugged her back just as hard, because he actually remembered that.

It hadn’t all come back-- things were blurry, most things, actually. But Annabeth at least felt clear in his mind, a shining beacon welcoming the rest of his memories back. He was already starting to get a headache again, but he didn’t care. They would come back. And even if they didn’t-- he had her. That was enough.

She pulled back from her bone crushing embrace, keeping their faces so close their noses were almost touching. She seemed scared that if she pulled away he might too, even though he had no intention of doing so, physically or mentally.

“So you’re back? Really?” she asked, sounding scared to know the answer.

“Sort of,” Percy confirmed, wincing as he did. He really was starting to get a pounding headache. “I remember you. And bits and pieces of other things, but mostly you.”

Annabeth breathed a sigh of relief, closing her eyes for a long moment.

“You scared the shit out of me,” she whispered, her hands trailing up his neck, just barely scraping his hair.

“I know. I’m sorry,” he breathed. And he did know, now better than ever. It couldn’t have been more than a few hours since he’d woken up without his memory, but he knew every minute of it had to have been hell for her.

Annabeth sighed, pulling back further, so he could see her whole face. Her eyes were still red from crying, and her cheeks were still flushed from their kiss. But he could see the barest traces of humor in her expression, a slight tug at the corner of her mouth where a smile was being repressed.

“What?” he asked, but she just shook her head.

“It’s nothing,” she said, but her smile had grown.

“Come on, I just had amnesia. You have to tell me.”

She laughed, a light tinkling sound. It was just on the edge of being hysterical, but she deserved it, after the day she’d been having.

“Fine. I was just thinking-- Hera couldn’t make you forget me but a glorified frisbee could?” Annabeth said.

“Hey, it was heavy!” Percy protested, but he couldn’t help but grin as he did. He would probably stay grinning for the rest of his life, actually.

“You’re such an idiot,” she breathed, pulling him into a hug again, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Percy said, hugging her back. And now he knew he did, in a permanent, tangible way.

There was still a lot missing, but he had the most important bits down. His name was Percy Jackson. He was twenty years old, and in college and a demigod, and lots of other things that would surely return with time.

And he loved Annabeth Chase more than anything in the world.

#this is so cheesy and so long <3 #bon apple teeth #percabeth #percy jackson #percabeth fic #pjo #annabeth chase #pjo fic #percabeth fanfic #i already have more prompts in my inbox than i will realistically every finish #so on a technical level i am not taking more #but if you send one and i like it i might write it anyway lmao #no guarantees though!!

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demifiendrsa · 4 years ago

Video

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Stranger of Paradise: Final Fantasy Origin | Announcement Teaser Trailer

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Japanese version

It’ll launch for PlayStation 5, Xbox Series X|S, PlayStation 4, Xbox One, and PC in 2022.

A demo—Stranger of Paradise: Final Fantasy Origin Trial Version—-will launch for PlayStation 5 today and be available through June 24, 2021 at 7:59 p.m. PT / 10:59 p.m. ET. A survey will follow from June 13, 2021 through June 30, 2021, accessible from the menu screen of the demo.

Logos

Key visual

Character renders

Overview and Developer comments

About the Game

Final Fantasy VII Remake veterans Tetsuya Nomura and Kazushige Nojima join forces with Team Ninja from KOei Tecmo Games to deliver a bold new vision for Final Fantasy. Get your first look at Stranger of Paradise: Final Fantasy Origin . Coming to PlayStation 5, PlayStation 4, Xbox Series X|S, Xbox One, and PC in 2022.

With the memory of their struggle buried deep in their hearts…

Jack and his allies, Ash and Jed, burn with resolve to defeat Chaos as they throw open the gates to the Chaos Shrine. Yet doubts remain—are they truly the Warriors of Light the prophecy foretold?

Step into a world of dark fantasy and revel in the exhilarating, action-packed battles!

Trial version available on PlayStation 5 until June 24th, 2021.

Developer Comments

Tetsuya Nomura – Creative Producer

The initial concept for Stranger of Paradise: Final Fantasy Origin came up around the time following the release of Dissidia 012[duodecim] Final Fantasy. I was thinking to myself about making my next game into one that featured action elements in which locations are conquered, rather than the kind with battles against characters. Some time passed without anything coming of it, but separately I was also thinking to myself about another plan for a new series of Final Fantasy titles revolving around “the story of an angry man”. Even more time passed, at which point I received a request for a new plan, so I combined these two ideas to come up with this.

While it is Final Fantasy, it feels different—but there’s no doubt that the blood ofFinal Fantasy runs through its veins.

We’ve undertaken the challenge of finding this difficult middle ground for this mature and stylish title.

We need a little time until we’re able to complete it, and while the battle system is a bloody one, it does links to the story, so I hope you’ll use this opportunity to give it a try.

Kazushige Nojima – Story and Scenario

“It’s not a hope or a dream. It’s like a hunger. A thirst.”

When I wrote this line, I felt like the story had been brought to life.

What drives them to want to defeat Chaos as much as they do? What, then, are their hopes and dreams?

It was in this moment that what used to be fragments and pieces of story came together in a powerful way. The story that I wrote—in what seemed like a single breath after penning that line—is Stranger of Paradise: Final Fantasy Origin. I think it turned out to be quite a memorable story that accompanies a game which prominently features brutal imagery.

Please enjoy!

Jin Fujiwara – Producer (Square Enix)

True to its label as “a bold new vision,” this title is full of new undertakings that draw a clear distinction between it and previous Final Fantasy series titles. I can’t divulge too many details at this stage, but we prepared a glimpse of these ambitions within the trial version, including the title’s direction and overall image, so please enjoy.

I believe that the feedback we receive from all of you around the world is very important as we improve upon the title even further. Please send us your thoughts through the trial version survey or through social media.

I’m already looking forward to the day I’ll be able to play this title with you.

Daisuke Inoue – Director (Square Enix)

This is a title that has been developed with the goal of bringing something new to sit alongside the many Final Fantasy titles in the series. I think it could be considered a side story in terms of how it is positioned.

There may be some people who were disappointed that this announcement was not a new, numbered title in the series, but this game contains ambitions within that even a mainline title may not have been able to achieve.

Grounded and challenging action created by Team Ninja. Our protagonist, sprayed with blood as he literally rips apart, throws, and pulverizing his enemies. The way he looks is almost as if—

Well, we have prepared this trial version with hopes of having players experience this new flavor that the title brings with it, even if just a little bit. As we are still in development, I think there may be some areas that are not perfect and may be that way for a while to come, but I hope you’ll enjoy the trial version regardless.

Additionally, please let us know your thoughts on the game, whether it be positives or negative that you noticed—we will make great use of this feedback as we continue development.

Fumihiko Yasuda – Head of Team Ninja, Producer (Koei Tecmo Games)

Playing Final Fantasy IV 30 years ago is what made me aspire towards a career in the gaming industry, so I always hoped that someday I could be involved in the Final Fantasy series. When Team Ninja was working on Dissidia Final Fantasy, I was in charge of a different section, which meant that every night I filled my pillow with tears. I’m truly happy to be involved with a new Final Fantasy, and a title connected to its Origin at that.

Using the feedback that the players provide after playing the trial version, all of us at Team NINJA will work to make this a title that meets the expectations of not only action game fans, but also Final Fantasy series fans around the world!

Hiroya Usuda – Director (Koei Tecmo Games)

I grew up playing Final Fantasy since I was very young, so it is a great honor to have the opportunity to be involved with this title. Furthermore, I’m truly excited that Team NINJA is able to deliver the first full-on action game in the Final Fantasy series to the world.

In this trial version, we’ve made specific demo-oriented adjustments so that players of all styles will be able to enjoy it—we have incorporated elements such as multiple jobs and weapon types, adjustable difficulty levels, and great replayability. Please let us know your thoughts and feedback once you have given it a try!

Nobumichi Kumabe – Director (Koei Tecmo Games)

I’m glad we were able to announce this new Final Fantasy game—an action game in which Jack, a Warrior of Light(?), lays waste to monsters while being bathed in the spray of their blood. I’m a huge fan of the Final Fantasy series myself, so I’m going to work hard towards release so that this blood-stained Jack can become a hero!

This is a title developed with the characteristic Team Ninja level of difficulty in mind, but once you start getting the hang of it, you’ll be able to defeat enemies in an exhilarating and satisfying way. I hope you will replay the trial version many times and try out the various weapons and abilities available.

The difficulty level can be changed as well, so one recommendation I have is to start playing on an easier difficulty and gradually raise it higher for a challenge!

Demo overview

The Stranger of Paradise: Final Fantasy Origin Trial Version was also announced during the showcase, which gives players the opportunity to experience a taste of the full game centering on Jack and his allies—Ash and Jed—as they throw open the gates to the Chaos Shrine. Burning with the resolve to defeat Chaos, and with the memories of their struggle buried deep in their hearts, are they the foretold Warriors of Light?

Players of the Stranger of Paradise: Final Fantasy Origin Trial Version can explore this dark fantasy world as they battle an array of iconic monsters from the Final Fantasy series, using powerful spells and abilities from a sample of jobs including warrior, dragoon and black mage.

139 notes · View notes

thiswasinevitableid · 5 years ago

Note

Have you seen the post going around about the zoom class with one guy and his full streamer setup vs the guy whose just in the middle of the woods? I know you have a prompt list rn but I’m just saying there’s a sternclay fic in there somewhere...

It is! Here you go!

Life is better with order. Or, at the very least, with some attempt at patterns, organization, or consistency.

Which is why Stern has carefully arranged his desk, his chair, and his equipment in the background. Streaming as a hobby and a side hustle means he has some (okay, a lot) of practice making his digital self look just right. He needs to make a good impression on the first day of the semester.

Unlike some people.

“Holy shit man, are you in the woods?” Duck, the guy in a “Monongahela National Forest” shirt, grins as he asks this of another student whose screen consists of a forest clearing, a log, and the name “Barclay.”

“Yeah. Hang on, lemme finish getting the phone balanced.”

“Dude, that’s like, way better than my background” this comes from Jake, in front of a poorly rendered half-pipe.

“Can’t really take credit for it, just where I ended up.” Barclay sits down, and Stern gets his first look at a man so tall he barely fits in the frame, with a short, coppery beard and an honest-to-god man-bun.

Damn west coast schools.

“How is your battery going to last long enough for class?” Stern leans back in his chair, certain Barclay will have “battery trouble” halfway through as an excuse to cut out early.

Barclay smiles, lifting up a small green and black rectangle, “solar battery. Not everyone needs fancy gadgets for school.” He aims a pointed stare at Sterns set-up.

“It’s important to have the right equipment.”

“Whatever you say, man.” He lifts a cup of iced coffee into the frame, sipping it through a straw. It’s the picture of relaxation, as if nothing is wrong in the world. As if this is all totally normal.

Stern wants to reach through the screen and slap some sense into him. Preferably while he’s shirtless.

He chalks that thought up to not having gotten laid since last December and pulls up his note taking software as Professor Chicane enters the room.

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

Private Chat 9/20/20

Duck (he/him): I timed it, we’re already at ten minutes of arguing.

Indrid (he/him): I know Ned enjoys their demonstrating the different modes of rhetoric, but this is a bit extreme.

Duck: To be fair, Joe does seem kinda uptight.

Indrid: Yes, but Barclay should know by now that zeroing in on him during our practice debates only results in this.

Duck: Yeah. Oh shit, are they for real wrapping up you think?

Indrid: We can only hope. Skype me tonight?

Duck: Of course, sugar.

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

What is Joseph’s problem? He’s got a set-up that would make a pro-vlogger jealous, what looks to be a well-lit apartment with some houseplants and the kind of coffee-cups that are weirdly lacking in personality. His clothes are immaculate, his hair slicked back as if he;s in a business meeting rather than an online class in the midst of a chaotic world. So why is he acting like everything is terrible? And why is he always arguing with Barclay, when there are plenty of other people in the class to disagree with?

“Now” Mr. Chicane’s voice booms through the tiny speaker on his phone, “if you all had a chance to read over the instructions, we will begin the first mock debate. Do we have any volunteers?”

He and Joe raise their hands at the same time. Mr. Chicane raises an eyebrow.

“While I appreciate your eagerness, gentlemen, I would like two other volunteers this time.”

That’s fine by him. It’s not like he likes listening to Joseph get all wound up and passionate, making everyone on the call sit up and take notice of him. It’s not as if he enjoys being the center of his focus.

Nope, not at all.

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

Private chat 10/11/20

Jake (he/him): Dudes, did you see who got paired up on the final project?

Aubrey (she/her): Chicane must be getting them back for all the times they’ve hijacked discussions.

Duck (he/him): Man, for their sake I hope it works out.

Indrid (he/him): This is going to be a disaster.

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

“Are you out of your mind!” Stern is talking before Barclay’s video is fully on.

“Nope. And you don’t have to yell, my speaker works just fine.”

“You’re outside, for all I know there’s a ton of ambient noise.”

Barclay, phone obviously in his hand as he walks through the trees, groans.

“And don’t try to derail this; how can you possibly suggest I come out there so we can do the project in person? We’re supposed to be limiting travel and gatherings.”

“Look, Joseph, we both agree that trying to generate our own cryptid hoax is the best way to demonstrate all the techniques Ned wants us too, right?”

“Yes” he hides his answer behind the rim of his coffee mug.

“We’ll do a way better job if we work in the same space. And if it makes you feel any better, I haven’t had any human contact in three weeks; all quarantined up, unlike whatever you’ve been doing in the city.”

He sets the mug down with a thunk, “I haven’t been out in a month. And before that was only for one grocery run and a hospital visit.”

“Uhhh-”

“I cut my hand cooking. So. Yeah.”

Literal crickets chirp, courtesy of Barclay’s end of the line, as the silence stretches on.

“If it helps, it’s real easy to stay isolated here, and I’ve still got utilities and everything.”

“And you’re not subsisting only on MREs or granola or something?”

A deep chuckle, the kind that makes his skin prickle, “Nope. That much I can promise.”

Stern glances around the studio apartment, clean and empty.

“What’s your address?”

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

Look, all Stern is going to say is that he’s seen and read plenty of stories that start with a cabin in the woods and none of them end well. Which is why he’s still sitting in his car, parked beside a beat-up Subaru, rather than knocking on the door.

Breathe in, five counts. Out for four. Repeat four times.

Waiting for him on the door is a note.

Joseph,

Key under mat, make yourself at home.

Barclay.

He brings in his bags (a matching set of three, a gift from his aunt last year), placing them in the tiny guest room. It’s not much more than a bed, a dresser, and a tiny table. But there’s a heating unit below the window looking out into the woods, which is pretty pleasant. He’ll be keeping the blinds closed at night, though; he hates the thought of something being able to look in.

Stern’s busy evaluating the laundry closet when the front door opens.

“Hey, glad you found the place okay.”

Barclay stands in the doorway, a basket full of fruit in one hand. He’s remarkably kempt for a man living in the woods and that, combined with the deep voice being even richer in person and the fact Stern has to actually look up to meet his eyes, has him stumbling for words.

“Your directions were very thorough. Thank you. Um. I put my things in there, should I, um-”

“I can give you the grand tour.” The taller man sets the basket on the dining table, notices Sterns puzzled expression “there’s a piece of property about a mile thataway that has orchards they don’t really use. They let me come and pick whenever i want, less for them to clean up.”

Barclay keeps up a steady monologue as he shows him the cabin. The lower level is the living room and dining area, a kitchen which leads onto the back deck, Sterns room, and a bathroom. As the cabin is A-frame, the upstairs is Barclay’s room, all dark wood and pine colored plaid. It’s as Barclay is telling him about the woodpecker that sometimes nests in the eaves that he realizes why he’s talking so much.

He’s nervous.

Neither of their nerves improve when he gets to his last point of order.

“Uh, so, the bathroom downstairs is only a half-bath.”

“So...if I want to shower, which I do, I have to come up here.”

“Yeah.” Barclay scratches the back of his neck, “sorry. I don’t, like, sleep naked or anything so we should be fine.”

“Disappointing.” Stern sighs, only to sail past sarcastic and land face first in sincere.

Barclay blushes, then shrugs, “Trust me, after the first night, you’ll see why.”

Stern does. He’s warm as long as he’s in bed, but the moment he ventures into the bathroom in the middle of the night he’s cocooned in cold.

The morning brings cinnamon and coffee on the draft coming under the door. He plods into the kitchen in search of caffeine, finds Barclay in an pron, the counter covered in trays of dough.

“Morning!”

“Morning. Coffee-”

“Right there, sugar and stuff’s in the cabinet above it, cream and such is in the fridge.”

Blessedly, there’s heavy cream to be found, and soon he’s sipping from an enamel mug emblazoned with a UFO made of veggies.

“Is this all for your job?” Barclay mentioned he was a cook during an icebreaker.

“Yep. Way it works is I bust my ass baking once or twice a day, and Thacker, who works with Mama at the Lodge in town, comes and takes them over there. Normally I’d just be there but, well, y’know.”

“Everything is on fire? Figuratively, I mean.”

“Sometimes literally too, but yeah.”

As he’s turning to grab his clothes and head showerward, Barclay adds, “You a scone man, coffecake man, or a cinnamon roll man?”

“Coffeecake?” It comes out hesitant.

“There’s no right answer, man.” Barclay sounds amused, “what do you want?”

“Cake, definitely.”

“Cool. I’ll save you a slice.”

Once he’s showered and on the wi-fi, his day runs like normal; one lecture, reading, a research paper, his initial half of their project, and working either his copy-editing or transcription job in between, and planning his next stream. Barclay comes and goes, stops now and then to see if he needs anything, leaves a sandwich in front of him around dinner time. Then it’s time to crawl under the covers and dream of a less-stressful world.

The next day, just before one, Barclay taps him on the shoulder.

“Ready for class?”

“Yes…” He gestures to his laptop and notebook.

“C’mon, join me out here, it’s way nicer, and we can share the phone.”

“Barclay, it’s a nonsensical way to attend class, just stay in here with me! Even this set-up has to be better than the woods.”

“This set up. You mean my house?” All the friendliness leaves hi voice.

“Yes. Look, I agreed to come out because you’re right, if we want to ace this thing that’s worth sixty percent of our grade, this is the place to do it; I don’t have to go along with the whole self-sufficient woodsman aesthetic while I’m here. “

“Yeah, I’d say you’re pretty far from self-sufficient. See you in class.”

Stern stews through the entire session, but where he’d usually find something Barclay says to latch onto, he instead gnaws on himself. Why didn’t he just go with him? Why snap at someone who’s been nothing but nice since he got here?

Whatever the answer, how can he fix it?

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

Barclay tromps back through the twilight, done with his second class of the day. If Joseph is in the main house, he plans to ignore him until tomorrow morning. That all goes out the window with the clank of dishes from the kitchen.

Peering in reveals the other man bent over, pulling a casserole from the oven. He waits to announce his presence until Joseph is out of the danger zone, enjoying the view as he does.

“Smells good.”

Blue eyes flick over to him as Joseph opens drawers, “it’s mostly cheese and chips, so I’m not surprised.”

“Servers are in that one.”

“Thank you. Nacho pie?” He scoops some into a bowl, holding it out.

“Sure. Uh, look, Joseph I-”

Joseph holds up the server, “Wait. Before you apologize I, um, I wanted to say I’m sorry for my comments. And for being so...me-ish.” He sighs, staring at the utensil in his grip, “I’ve always been a little bit tense, tried to be polite and effective and friendly in spite of it. The last six months made that harder to do. I don’t love it when I can’t be organized, when normal systems go out of place. But that’s no excuse for being rude to you, even before you invited me here. You’re just so...you’re always so calm and relaxed, like nothing was wrong and I just honed in on that way more than made sense. I’m sorry.”

“If it makes you feel better, I kinda did the same thing. You’re always so put together, it looked like you had this organized life in the midst of this whole shitstorm. I feel lik everything is slipping away, like my world is just this cabin. I mean, I assumed you were seeing friends in the city, while I haven’t seen Mama in person since April. So” he sets the bowl down, rests his hand on Joseph’s shoulder, “I’m sorry too.”

Joseph laughs, softly, “turns out we both had failures of imagination, huh?”

“Yeah” he runs a hand over Joseph's back, “now come on, this dinner’s not gonna eat itself.”

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

“You sure you don’t wanna wear the bigfoot costume?”

“Positive. Besides, it suits you.” Joseph finishes styling the fur on the head of the costume to look more realistic, “I just hope we get this done before that storm comes in; as mush as the rain would add to the mood of the scene, that’ll be hell to dry and you’ll be miserable. So, go lurk over there while I finish up getting the camera settings where they need to be.”

“Yes sir” Barclay pops the head on, leaves crunching as moves to his appointed tree. He smiles as he watches Joseph fiddle with the camera; things have been so much better between them these last two weeks. They trade off cooking dinner, study side by side, and watch movies or play games in the warmth of the heater. They have a similar sense of humor and taste in books, and are tidy to boot. Joseph’s even come with him to listen to lectures in the woods, the pair sharing a thermos of coffee under the astonished gaze of their classmates. There’s just one problem.

Barclay’s buried crush is now blooming in every direction. Animated, argumentative Joseph was attractive. Joseph, in all his moods and mannerisms, is devastatingly enchanting. He’s come close to telling him this, but the other man is his guest and also only here for another two and a half weeks, so a confession is setting himself up for heartbreak at worst and awkwardness at best.

He almost blew it last night when they were washing dishes (Joseph scrubs, Barclay dries and puts away).

“Last one.”

“Thanks, blue eyes.”

“What was that?”

“Uh, blue eyes? Like a, uh, a nickname?”

Joseph laughs, “Sounds like something from a Raymond Chandler book. I like it.”

On the plus side, if Joseph thinks it’s just a nickname and not a pet name, maybe Barclay can keep using it.

“Are you ready?’

He sticks up a hairy thumb and calls, “you know it, blue eyes.”

That same laugh as Joseph takes up his position. Maybe it’s the weird film over the costume’s eyes, but Barclay swears he sees a blush.

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

Stern trawls through the search results. Their video is getting some traction, with two cryptid hunter sites claiming it’s credible footage. He’s making note of how the information spread, which threads lead to belief and which to doubt, when Barclay calls from upstairs.

“Joseph? Little help?”

The other man is in the bathroom, and when Stern knocks he says, “Think the pilot light on the water heater went out again, all I’m getting is cold water. Can you go relight it?”

“Sure.” He gets to the stairs then, stops, “where’s the key to that closet?”

“Huh? Oh, shit, right, hang on” Barclay says at the same time as Stern’s “don’t worry, I can find it.”

Which is why the instant he turns back into the bedroom is the same instant Barclay steps out of the bathroom, blue towel around his waist.

Any blood that doesn’t head south goes instantly to Stern’s cheeks.

“You okay there, blue-eyes?”

“It’s completely unfair how good you look without a shirt.”

He clamps a hand over his mouth.

“Idn’t ean to ay at out oud” The mumbled explanation makes Barclay smirk.

“You like this, should see what’s under the towel.”

The unusually bold statement from Barclay kindles his own confidence.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, big guy.”

“Who says I won’t.” Barclay sits down on the edge of the bed, nonchalant and leaning back on his hands, “got plenty of time to make good on them.”

“We literally don’t. I go back in a week and two days.”

Barclay toys with the lint on the towel, “you could stay. Through break, through next semester, for however long you wanted.”

“Do you mean that?”

A shy nod, “I like having you around, Joseph. Even beyond the huge fucking crush I have on you I...everything is a little better when you’re around.”

“I, um, I guess it could work. We know next semester is online too, and so is work, so…” there must be variables missing, something he’s not seeing, some reason this is too good to be true.

“You want some space away from shirtless me to think about it?”

“That’d be great.”

Barclay stands, hesitates, then plants a quick kiss on his forehead, “take all the time you need, blue eyes.”

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

Private Chat log 1/11/2021

Barclay (he/him): Did you see the look on Duck’s face when we turned up in frame together.

Joseph (he/him): Yes. Pretty sure Aubrey yelled something about him needing to pay up. I wonder what the bet was.

Barclay (he/him): Whatever it was, pretty sure I came out the biggest winner.

Stern snorts, trying not to blush on camera, and leans over to kiss his boyfriend on the cheek.

#agent stern/barclay #sternclay #taz amnesty #college AU

63 notes · View notes

project-paranoia · 4 years ago

Text

Live Watch: Thousand Autumns Episode One

Oh wow someone got the good... guzheng? Something in that family of instruments anyway. They got the good music for that. And the animation is beautiful and beautifully synchronised to the clip excerpts.

And the imagery! The opening with the symbol of the Dao, and then main character number 1, Shen Qiao, all in white, in a fantastically and subtly ornamented outfit - I love the textures of the cloth they put in on the animation here, cloth and clothes textures are so easy to get wrong and they’ve done it beautifully here. I think this is supposed to be Shen Qiao’s original sect leader/zhangjiao outfit and he looks properly leaderly in it.

And this, followed by a closeup of Yan Wushi’s hand holding the ring of contention, and then Yan Wushi himself, very handsomely rendered in 3d animation - and again I have to voice my appreciation of the cloth textures. That’s actual subtly 3d brocade textures they’re rendering there, with the correct flow for how cloth hangs on the body, and the correct variances of light on the areas with thicker brocade and it is, frankly, very impressive. And they didn’t lose colour saturation doing it either, making that purple robe look suitably luxurious. The shiny hair ornament and one sidebang in white is a nice touch as well. As are the hints they set right in the opening that Shen Qiao and Yan Wushi are ... opposites, and complements, linking them back to the Yin/Yang balance of the symbol of the Dao.

So much love for this opening song it’s so good. Also going to be a pain to translate accurately with a proper sense of the poetry of it, but so good.

Alright episode 1 proper, 风雨欲来. The coming of the wind and rain, literally, I think. Maybe even the foreboding or oncoming storm, if you’re going for the feel of the term instead of literal translation. Oh. Oh that opening montage with the bird’s eye view and the fog and the high mountains - I was so taken by this scenery I sketched and tried to paint it at least 3 times. It’s a very moving shot. Also very much in the grand tradition of xianxia/wuxia, and also, even without a word, hinting at the traditional stance of the Mt Xuandu sect - to 出世， to remove themselves from the world to cultivate in the seclusion and clarity of the literal peaks above the clouds and dust of the world.

Oh. Oh that opening shot. The challenge to combat by Kunye to Shen Qiao. The.. subtle and ornate embroidery and brocade and patterning on Shen Qiao’s sect leader robes is so awesome. The wave motifs repeated in the 3 layers of robes, even on the hair ornament/冠 in his hair, the resolute look on his face! The closeup shot of the 山河同悲 sword - and what a name for it. A sword named for, if I may be excused poetry in translation - compassion and pity and fellow feeling for the griefs and pains and trials of the world as encompassed by the mountains and rivers - what a blade, and what a name, and what a bearer that would be worthy of it. A very good hint, at the kind of person Shen Qiao is, even before they have him open his mouth.

The contrasting costuming decision for Kunye et al is also very nice, hinting at the cultural differences between, say, the peoples that live on the central plains and the more nomadic groups living on less kindly land, shown in the different materials available/preferred - leather, furs, etc vs cloth, silk, cotton etc

And the fight choreography! So nice! The 3d animation works really well here,in that there’s no limitation to the capabilities of human bodies and it’s possible to really show in the visual medium the knock out drag down fight between 2 people whose martial - and quasi magical - capabilities are already at potentially mountain splitting levels. Not to mention also, showing that a Shen Qiao who isn’t being handicapped by sabotage... really can wipe the floor with Kunye if he wants to. And then, of course, once the fight gets to Half-step Peak and they’re out of sight of inconvenient witnesses, the signal for the ambush. And then the effects of the sabotage take hold.

Ah, flashback to 20 years ago, to provide the audience with the world info we need to understand the rest of the story. Not to mention also informing us why Hulugu would even bother. Or why Kunye coming in to challege Shen Qiao is so narratively important. And also introducing the ring that so many would fight over later.

Yan Wushi’s character introduction.. is quite something. As is Yu Shengyan’s. Ah, Shizun, congratulations on exiting your 10 year cultivation seclusion, would you like the highlights on the changes in the world in the past 10 years? But also a good show of character, because they have him not even looking at Yu Shengyan, but looking away in the distance, and telling him to only tell the most important bits, he’s not interested in useless words. Also serves as a nice introduction to some people who’ll be important later, and giving us a time marker for when Shen Qiao ascended to the sect leader post - 5 years ago, after the death of his shizun Qi Fengge. Ah Yan Wushi, your characteristically arrogant attitude - aside from Qi Fengge, who in life was worthy of being the first among all the wuxia world, the rest are not worth even mentioning. And here too a little hint that Yan Wushi might care a little bit in some way for those who are his, including his disciples - He tells Yu Shengyan that this location, this Half Step Peak that they’re at, because of its physical characteristics, is good for him to cultivate to the next level of understanding/enlightenment of the martial arts used by Huanyue Sect.

I love it whenever they hint that the more... developed characters whose martial arts are very good have improved senses. A little flow of blood in the water, Yu Shengyan notices something is wrong, looks at his shizun, and receives a nod of affirmation that he perceived correctly and should take action. And then after that, they come upon a body of one of the Mt Xuandu disciples, and Yan Wushi’s verbal remark that today, Mt Xuandu is troubled and not pure and clean. And then Shen Qiao literally falls from the cliff top - and the pan up makes it very clear that for most people, this is a lethal fall.

And then the surviving ambushers attempt to finish the job when Yu Shengyan checks whether Shen Qiao is still alive... and Yan Wushi takes the training opportunity when he sees it, and tells his disciple to use his strongest techniques to take on the remaining assassins. And then, when Yu Shengyan can't quite wipe the floor with them... criticizes his lack of growth, as might be expected of Yan Wushi, and steps in to really wipe the floor with the assassins, as might not be expected of Yan Wushi. Also doubles as a really nice display to the audience of his level of strength. In fact.. listening to the voice, I think one of those assassins appears, unhidden, in later episodes. Heh. Plot continuity, a nice one. As are the assassins having common sense, recognising Yan Wushi's infamous technique, and running before they're cut down.

Ahahahaha yes Yu Shengyan, your shizun really had you pick that fight for training, and he's really about to pick up Shen Qiao and have him rescued on a whim. Also nice to review, on rewatch for the details, that part of this whim is perhaps curiousity as to Shen Qiao's ability to survive and/or recover, as hinted by the thin thread of strength provided by the Zhuyang Ce, that Yan Wushi identifies as the thin strength keeping him alive, despite the aforementioned lethal fall.

Heh. Yu Shengyan – and maybe Huanyue Sect's other job – information gatherers aka spies.

Ah, Yan Wushi, you really are fascinated by people's reactions under stress, aren't you.

Shen Qiao awakens! Oof, the amount of damage – can't see, amnesia – damaged or even broken meridians – the donghua doesn't mention how much time passes, but given that Yu Shengyan mentions that Shen Qiao's broken bones have only just finished healing – could not have been a matter of days. Weeks, maybe even a month, minimum. Unless Yu Shengyan meant that the bones have only just been set – which could mean a few days. And then the mindscrew from Yan Wushi, telling poor amnesiac Shen Qiao that, yes, your name is Shen Qiao, oh, and you are one of my disciples from Huanyue Sect! Someone sure is hasty to put his poke the injured person plans into action! Ah Yan Wushi, if you could please give Shen Qiao a break, he just had a near death experience! But also – the scope of the injuries – yes, it benefits Yan Wushi's plotting but also – Shen Qiao was injured beyond the scope of ordinary medicine? Yu Shengyan has to be stationed to basically care for him until he is able to awaken – and presumably recover – appropriately!

Alright, time marker, 3 months after previous events.. okay. Shen Qiao can walk, some, though the animators were careful to make it a clearly pained walk, in comparison to how he was moving pre-Kunye fight. And then of course the blindness, which may also explain how they've animated him moving with more cautious steps. And the coughing, and the eyes that can't focus – all in all, a detailed and careful show of how badly injured Shen Qiao still is. Can't help sniggering at every 'shidi' I'm hearing him say though. And Yu Shengyan... yes, really, even though you and your shizun can't quite believe it, there really is a person this kind and considerate of other people.

The appearance of the weiqi board motif! Strategy, and planning, and part of the arts of the refined gentlemen..and the hint of how Shen Qiao is perceiving/visualising the input that he hears, since he can't see right now. And the hint that he might be using qi to help sort through what he hears – well enough that he can identify it's a weiqi board, and even the piece being placed. Very Awesome. Especially when they show Yan Wushi possibly testing Shen Qiao's capability to perceive the world around him by hesitating and purposely not putting down his piece.. and Shen Qiao very naturally picking up the piece – black, the correct colour and the one Yan Wushi was about to play – and putting it in the correct position on the board that Yan Wushi was about to place. Is it any wonder that the next thing Yan Wushi checks is the state of his recovery?

And then we have Yan Wushi's characteristic multipronged planning – creating trouble for Hehuan sect, training for Yu Shengyan, testing opportunity for Shen Qiao. Very excellent, any and every outcome has benefit to Yan Wushi.

Ah the encounter at the medicine shop. Hm. Okay, the sharing of the medicine is clearly a hint to Yan Ziwen of some kind that he and his should be especially cautious tonight, perhaps even to run for their lives tonight. Though it's maybe a hint in the actions, and not the words, because the words don't sound suspicious at all. Neither do the actions, if you were watching as a observer and didn't know Yan Ziwen's paranoid character – a blind person would unsurprisingly wish to be extra careful where they put their hands. And at night, on the attack... for all that Shen Qiao can't quite see, and is currently relying on the rest of his senses... he can tell that something's off about Yu Shengyan's actions. And then... Shen Qiao remembers... the sword, and what Qi Fengge taught him. And then the confrontation, and the near strangulation by Yan Wushi... Shen Qiao has such a nice literary register to his speech. Four word phrases even under severe near strangled stress, with the right philosophical meaning to make his point to Yan Wushi. And then the reveal of Yan Wushi's plotting. Very nicely done.

And now, the first of Yan Wushi's many many invitations to Shen Qiao to forsake his daoist path and join Yan Wushi's ... evil sect is not the right word. Demonic path is technically correct but has moral overtones that don't fit. Join Yan Wushi's cultivation path, maybe. Join and get bloody revenge on everyone who's wronged Shen Qiao – and already there are so many of them. And we the audience wonder for half a second – is he going to do it? Is this going to be a revenge story? And Shen Qiao flat out refuses in words, in the first of many times. And then Shen Qiao walks away from Yan Wushi. Here the animation is a delight again – the audience gets to see the little micro expressions that flit across – he's actually walking away?! And then Yan Wushi does his dramatic gifting of the bamboo stick. And too, a few seconds later, the reveal of their movements being spied on by Duan Wenyang, and Yu Shengyan's orders to continue searching for .. something. Ah, the plotting in Thousand Autumns. Always a delight.

#山河剑心 #thousand autumns

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atamascolily · 5 years ago

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Lily reads Star Wars: Red Harvest, part four

In which sentient plants offer excellent advice, but it doesn't help, and the zombie mayhem at Sith Hogwarts begins.

(If you’re just joining me, check out the “Red Harvest” tag on my blog for previous posts)

At Sith Hogwarts, we learn that the Big Bad is even more devious than we previously assumed:

Her name’s Hestizo Trace,” the Whiphid said. “She’s the orchid’s keeper. It needs her to—”

“Survive,” Scabrous said. “I know. That’s how I knew you were bringing me the genuine article.” He reached up and touched her face, his gloved hand cold against her cheek, like leather wrapped around an iron rod. “It was the one piece of information that I withheld about the orchid.”

PRO-TIP: DON'T DO BUSINESS WITH THE SITH. THEY *ALWAYS* CHEAT.

The Sith Lord nodded. “My droid will pay you on the way out.”

Time for another double-cross? That droid ain’t a HK for nothing...

Anyway, horrible Sith experiments follow using the orchid. Other Sith students spy and scheme. The student Scabrous tortured to death rises from his cage and breaks free. The zombie's first act is to bite off part of Darth Scabrous's face. Good for him, though it doesn't take.

Metal struck metal with a flat, declarative clang that reminded him somehow of the sound of training blades clashing at the top of the temple. It was a noise that said: Things have been put into motion, and whatever happens next, there will be no going back.

#accurate

More Sith students die, but it's hard to care because they're such terrible people. (Though we also learn that some of them were conscripted into the Academy, so they didn't necessarily start off as terrible people, but they sure are now!) I'm skimming a lot because it's all incredibly violent.

Zo escapes in the chaos. Darth Scabrous does some awful Sith alchemy to keep from turning into more of a monster than he already is. Zo eavesdrop on the Sith masters explaining to the students that it's just another Tuesday:

Zo realized as she listened that she could hear a slight but unmistakable tremor of concern in the Master’s tone. He was doing everything he could to cover it up, and perhaps the students were fooled, but to her mind he might as well have been wearing a placard: I’M DOING MY BEST TO SPIN A SITUATION THAT I HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO ABILITY TO COMPREHEND, LET ALONE CONTROL, AND—

The orchid talks to Zo and warns her of trouble, but it doesn't help. The bounty hunter shows up again and grabs her before the infected students do. Cliffhanger!

Meanwhile, we meet a Sith nerd who just wants to translate secret Sith scrolls for Ultimate Power--who is also the only female student we've seen thus far. There's a sentient tree librarian in a crumbling library and I'm here for it.

“Something unsettling you, Kindra?” His voice was thick and raspy. “Some uncertainty of the mind, yes?”

“No.”

The librarian didn’t respond, just continued to slither his branches downward until the great bulk of his trunk dangled upside down in front of her, the warty, centuries-old eyes narrowing with myopic consideration. Dail’Liss had been the curator of the library for as long as anyone could remember, perhaps going back a thousand years or more. Although his elaborate root system was permanently embedded somewhere deep in the foundation, a seemingly endless network of branches and limbs allowed him to slide unimpeded through its walls and hollows. Ironically, it was this constant writhing and squirming that undermined the infrastructure of the building itself. Rumor was that it would only be a matter of time before the Neti brought the library down on top of him, sealing himself forever amid his own precious holdings—a fitting enough end, when Kindra thought about it.

“Look.” Kindra shook her head, increasingly irritated by the librarian’s evasiveness. “Either you have answers for me or you don’t. Either way I’m not going to stay in here and hide.”

“Best course of action, I would say.”

Tree!Librarian is right. She's not going to survive is, she? But I'm still kinda rooting for her, if only because everyone else is so awful in comparison. We haven't seen Kindra doing anything evil yet, but I'm sure she has, if only because she's still alive in this place and kindness is anathema to baby Sith.

The Tree!Librarian also doesn't seem evil... yet? How did he get here? What's his deal and why? I am so curious and this is all the backstory I'm getting, which is to say, almost nothing. Sigh.

One of the students gets bitten. His arm starts rotting. This Is Fine.

“Something’s wrong.”

“Meaning what?”

“I’ve got a bad feeling.” ...

“About what?”

“I don’t know—this night, everything. You feel it?”

“Nope.” He shook his head, feigning an indifference that he didn’t even remotely feel. “Just another day in paradise, as far as I’m concerned.”

LOL, irony.

More zombies. More attacks on Sith students. Chapter Twenty is called "Lockdown" and I just can't even. Most of the Sith students are literally locked in the cafeteria with their ex-colleagues, and then the bloodbath starts. They're using the Dark Side to fight the zombies. It doesn't go well.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, this whole premise is fucking genius, because again, everyone at a Sith Academy is a horrible person doing horrible things in their horrible gothic nightmare castle, so it's hard to feel bad when they are horribly murdered by horrible Sith zombie alchemy monsters. It just feels like Laser-Guided Karma.

Shit just got real because Not!Qui-Gon arrives at the Sith Academy. The mechanic who greeted the bounty hunters is now missing, presumed dead It's tough to be psychometrist when everything you touch generates visions of violent death.

Meanwhile, a handful of surviving Sith students team up, kinda:

Ra’at held Maggs and Hartwig in the same regard that he did the rest of his classmates, with a kind of suspicious indifference. Their motives were purely selfish, as were his; he had no intention of sharing information that didn’t somehow improve his own situation. At this point they all knew something had gone very wrong, contaminating the academy or the entire planet; for the moment they were allies of opportunity.

These Sith can't even work together long enough to survive the crisis. No wonder the Jedi eventually kicked the Siths’ collective asses through the Power of Friendship.

Here, have some conspiracy theories along with your nightmare fuel:

“We all feel something kind of bad in the air, right? Like maybe some kind of a … disease. But who’s to say it’s not just one of Scabrous’s drills?”

Kindra’s eyebrows went up. “Excuse me?”

“For all we know he started this himself.”

“Why?”

“Maybe it is a training exercise,” Maggs put in. “Or maybe he’s culling the weak students. It’s happened before. Remember the unakki eye spiders?”

“This is worse,” Kindra said.

“Don’t be so sure,” Hartwig said. “Eleven students went blind. Two of them died. Remember Soid Einray?”

“Soid Einray was a defective already.”

“Maybe, but he still hung himself afterward. And then we found out that Scabrous had reactivated the fertilized spider eggs from the pathogen bank as a nerve-reflexivity drill.” Hartwig refused to lower his stare. “I still wake up with blood in my eyes sometimes.”

Just another day at Sith Hogwarts, am I right? What a terrible place.

Ra’at began concentrating solely on himself and his own survival, forgetting all the others. The Masters at the academy had trained them to fight as a unit when necessary, but a Sith warrior’s true strength lay in his or her own personal will to power. When you could trust no one, fighting alone was axiomatic, a natural state.

Flattening himself to the wall, he felt the Force’s dark side coursing through him, a crackling electric chill that rendered fear and apprehension obsolete, and welcomed it. In that moment, he felt only a ready vigilance, weightless and unrelenting. Since arriving here on Odacer-Faustin, it was the closest to happiness that he dared let himself experience. Yet in so many ways it was superior to any happiness he’d ever encountered. It made traditional happiness look anemic by comparison.

The POV Sith students watch the cafeteria zombie attack on the security cameras, and realize what they're up against. Meanwhile, Zo is also realizing how much trouble she's in, and the orchid is having a breakdown:

They can’t be killed, a voice whispered from the back of her mind, they’re already dead, look at them. At first she thought she was hearing her own thoughts, and then she realized it was the Murakami orchid, roiling in its own guilt and misery, yammering out words that she alone could hear. Dead but alive, Hestizo, dead but alive, I did this to them, it was my fault, when Scabrous put me into that horrible vat, and now I’m inside them—

Poor orchid. I really like that it isn't evil and is just as horrified as Zo about all this. I’m still not sure how that’s possible, or what actually happened, but that’s okay, because none of the character do, either!

Zo is about to be eaten by the zombies, but then--

I’ve got an idea, she told the orchid. Grow.

What?

You’re in them now, she said, aren’t you? You’re a part of them. You said so yourself.

The orchid does, and the zombies explode through Plant Power.

She concentrated harder—she could actually see the flora growing inside the things now, driving it harder, farther, faster from within, even as the orchid began crying out, begging her to stop, telling her that this hurt, it couldn’t do it anymore—

A lot of screaming follows. But it does work. Once. And then the orchid passes out and... becomes evil? Oh, no, I hope not. Turns out the bounty hunter is still alive, and she's working with him now to survive, like you do. I bet he’s regretting his life choices right now, too.

At that moment, Scabrous had assumed that what he’d seen was a kind of exaggerated nervous twitch, a biochemical accident that the drug and the orchid had triggered inside Nickter’s body. But now—

I wasn’t kidding when I said nobody knows what’s going on; not even the Big Bad has any idea of the forces (ha!) he’s unleashed. He determines that Zo is fleeing for the library, and prepares to trap her there. Will not!Qui-gon get there in time?

Spoiler: not quite.

#star wars #red harvest #book reviews #space botany #space orchids

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pass-the-bechdel · 6 years ago

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Brooklyn Nine-Nine season five full review

How many episodes pass the Bechdel test?

68.18% (fifteen of twenty-two).

What is the average percentage per episode of female characters with names and lines?

30.03%

How many episodes have a cast that is at least 40% female?

Two (episode seventeen ‘DFW’ (42.85%), and episode twenty-one ‘White Whale’ (42.85%)).

How many episodes have a cast that is less than 20% female?

One (episode nine ‘99′ (15.38%)).

How many female characters (with names and lines) are there?

Thirty-two. Four who appeared in more than one episode, three who appeared in at least half the episodes, and ZERO who appeared in every episode.

How many male characters (with names and lines) are there?

Sixty-four. Thirteen who appeared in more than one episode, six who appeared in at least half the episodes, and three who appeared in every episode.

Positive Content Status:

Fairly standard expectations for this show, that is: above-average compared to most tv. That said, their biggest progressive move of the season came off more prescribed than genuine to me, and sometimes I felt like they were including little remarks and things just to half-ass being ‘on brand’ rather than because they actually believe in it. This season often lacked the heart to make its social commentary really land (average rating of 3.04).

General Season Quality:

They had a whole bunch of good episodes around the middle of the season, but they started and ended weak, and a lot of the story and characterisation is starting to meander and go stale. They lifted their game in season four, but this feels like a return to the dissatisfaction that was rife in season three.

MORE INFO (and potential spoilers) under the cut:

Well, this is the worst they’ve done on the male:female ratio, decisively. It’s not the worst they’ve done on the Bechdel, but it is worse than what it has been in recent seasons. And while the positive content score is above average, outside of the single episode which raised that score they really did a lot less to impress than what I would consider this show’s standard (and even that one episode, I maintain, could have been much better). Setting aside the critical aspect of what I do here to speak on a pure entertainment level, this season seriously lacked one of the best qualities of the show in previous seasons, which was the basic guarantee of a good time; some episodes will always be better than others, but if nothing else, you used to be able to rely on that good time. There were no episodes this season that were just utter garbage, no, but if I were a casual viewer, then the majority of this season would probably fail to hold my attention or convince me to tune in next week, and that’s not what you want. As ever, when the show is good it is really, really good, but when it is bad it is DEEPLY mediocre, feeling phoned-in or, sometimes, like it was written by someone who does not understand the appeal of this show in the first place. To touch on some various aspects of all of the above, lets talk about character arcs.

Now, I am not one of those people who believes that every character has to have a definable ‘arc’. They really don’t. What they DO need is to feel like they’re part of the story for a reason, and giving them their own task or journey which traditionally lays out in an arc format tends to be the go-to method for achieving that. It is easily possible to have a character without a personal arc still fit into the story and feel necessary and wanted: my case in point for this season of B99 is Terry. Terry was seriously underused, and that’s a shame because he’s great, and yes, giving him some kind of arc to bring him to the fore a few times across the season would almost definitely have been a good move...but. The fact that he had no arc to speak of did not render his character obsolete, and he worked and played really well as a character whose stability can be an anchoring quality for the show sometimes: Terry is still a reliable good time, even if the writing is sliding in other places. Vitally, there is a confidence about the way that Terry is presented which allows his character to function fully regardless of the attention level; I would have LIKED more Terry, but his character is firmly established as a constant such that he can occupy a regular space without seeming superfluous. On the flip side of that, we have...Gina.

I’ve never ‘got’ Gina in that fan-favourite way that has worked for so many people, and her selfishness and her constant put-downs have often made her the antithesis of the feel-good mentality that - to me - has defined what makes this show worthwhile when it is at its best. But, setting aside my personal opinion of Gina as a character, this season failed utterly to achieve the very thing they used as the driving purpose of her return to the show at mid-season: to prove that she is ‘needed’. Real-life maternity leave is necessary and I would never advocate for axing a character just because the actor needs the time off, so I’m not suggesting they should have just ditched her and moved on despite Chelsea Peretti’s evident desire to return to the show, but what they NEEDED to do was to...give Gina literally anything meaningful to do once she returned, in order to re-establish her as someone with a reason to be around. They didn’t. Even the one subplot where Gina admits to Terry that she’s having a hard time balancing being a working mother lacked the impact to drive home a real-life struggle, and that’s pretty dire; Gina never felt right, when she was around at all, and it made the decision to bring her back on board after the show had got on just fine without her for half a season feel like one long false note. How hard would it have been to turn that weakly-delivered subplot into a proper mini-arc as Gina settled back in to work? How hard would it have been to make it clear that becoming a mother has changed Gina in a fashion which plays out in the long-term instead of just being a few remarks she made in a single episode? These are trick questions, of course. It’s not hard. It requires a bare minimum of effort which usually doesn’t even register AS effort, it’s just the writer asking themselves the question ‘What is going on with this character right now?’ and then answering it in their script. That’s just how basic character consistency works, really. And yet, they fumbled it.

In other dissatisfying news, we have the ‘Sad Excuse For An Arc’, featuring Charles Boyle. I really wish that I never had to talk about Charles again because I really hate him, for reasons elucidated constantly across my posts for this entire series which ultimately boil (heh) down to him being an emotionally manipulative nightmare of a person with possessive overtones who regularly disrespects and disrupts the lives around him without ever taking proper responsibility for his actions or recognising and working on his desperate need for self-improvement, and who somehow continues to be packaged by the narrative as just ‘ha-ha well-meaning but awkward’ while other characters pander to his manipulations and weather the many and sundry inconveniences he introduces to their lives without complaint. I still haven’t forgotten that he was an A-grade creep to Rosa in the first season and the show just kinda glossed over it and never mentioned it again, because damn, maybe if they had owned their mistake and had Charles actively tackle his flaws back then, they might have inadvertently written the character with literally any kind of development over the course of five freakin’ seasons. Because as-is, he has not changed at all since the show started (even adopting a child hasn’t changed him, it just gives him something to reference every now and then - what is it with this show and failing to incorporate major home-life changes (LITERAL! CHILDREN!!) into the character’s daily lives?), and this is how we end up with an ‘arc’ like that crap with Charles and the food truck. It goes like this: Charles buys food truck. Charles is a megalomaniac asshole chef in the food truck (significant food wastage ensues). Charles’ food truck gets destroyed. Three episodes across the season, one two three, and only the last one is the A plot of the episode instead of a minor subplot. And this? This is Charles’ personal story for the entire season. Unfortunately, he’s around constantly in the rest of the season as well and it feels like there were nowhere near enough episodes which offered a reprieve from his noxious personality, so he doesn’t suffer from Gina syndrome in the sense of seeming pointless, but that kinda...proves my point about arcs. The one Charles has here is a joke, and not the funny kind. He was used excessively throughout the rest of the season without the assistance of an ‘arc’ to legitimise his presence, he didn’t NEED one to function in the season, but the Sad Excuse For An Arc that he DID have only highlighted the wider problem of the character over the whole series thus far, which is that he has NEVER had an arc which brought about meaningful development or change.

And then there was Rosa. There was actually a sneakier amount of character fodder for Rosa this season than what may seem immediately obvious: the dominant development was her bisexuality, but there were also other pieces to pick up with her reconnecting with her family after her stint in prison, and also some welcome focus on her career in the latter end of the season (notably ‘Show Me Going’ and ‘White Whale’), which did a solid job of re-anchoring the character professionally after a season disproportionately interested in her romantic life. I feel very cynical, complaining about the bisexuality storyline, and I’d like to reiterate that I am genuinely glad to have this openly-declared positive representation for a frequently ill-treated branch of the big queer tree. I stand in unequivocal solidarity with my bisexual brethren. THAT SAID. I also sincerely dislike the way this show went about including bisexuality as a part of Rosa’s character, and it’s because of the ‘arc’ element: specifically, that the ‘arc’ is literally just about her being attracted to women. Rosa’s ‘coming out’ is not the arc - there is just the one Very Special episode about that specifically - and I’m ok with that because it’s rare to have a character whose queer sexuality is revealed comparatively late in a story without it being a revelation for the character themselves and not just the people around them. My problem is that - once the bisexual cat is out of the bag - the way the show packages the arc is just to double down, triple down on reminding the audience that Rosa is into women, is dating women, is being set up with women, is being wowed by hot women she sees...and there is no further mention of her interest in men. After four seasons of her only ever being depicted in relationships with men or having active interest in men, the narrative packages her coming out as bisexual in the same way as shows typically package a character realising that they’re gay: by giving them conspicuous subplots that revolve specifically around same-gender attraction. And that comes across to me as a brownie-points grab, as performative queer content designed to get attention, rather than the kind of inclusive representation I have celebrated this show for in the past re: Holt. It feels like the writers aren’t comfortable with the reality of Rosa’s bisexuality, that they’re subscribing to the idea that if she’s shown to be still interested in men that she’ll become magically not-queer and they’ll lose their brownie points, and so they’re throwing women at her in the kinds of meaningless subplots that they never assigned to the character before she came out. As a rule, if you treat a character differently for being queer than you would if they were straight, that’s bad representation. The way that Rosa’s life is presented to us should not spontaneously change just because we know she also likes women, especially because this is the status quo for her; the ‘arc’ here is about the expectation of an audience reaction, and not actually about the character at all.

The good news? Jake, Amy, and Holt all have successful, meaningful arcs this season, with Jake and Amy’s journey from engagement to marriage, and Holt’s gambit for his dream job as commissioner. While both arcs came to lacklustre closes in the predictable season finale, through the course of the season they supplied various A and B plots, never slipping entirely from the audience’s memory or causing glitches in the sense of character or narrative continuity, but also never dominating the show in a manner that became distracting or tedious. Both plots were told as stories, with ups and downs and complications large or small, like proper arcs instead of perfunctory beginning-middle-end or ‘three times makes it a pattern’ ideas (which is more than I can say for the Seamus Murphy misfire which made a Sad Excuse For An Arc for the first half of the season at large - it may have ended on a high note, but it failed to generate any tension as a long-term plot or deliver on its initial promises from the ultimately-weak time-wasting two-part premiere). Honestly, as a whole this season felt like they were winging it on the bulk of the story, with the Peralta-Santiago wedding and the fate of Holt’s career the only things that were planned for the finale from the outset and everything else just fabricated as they went along, and the looseness of the entire rest of the season is the messy disappointing result of the ‘we’ll figure it out when we get there’ ethos. Last season had me so hopeful for the show getting back on track, getting back to its roots and remembering what made it work with quality story for the characters, a solid narrative backbone, and a social compass at the forefront. After the vague characterisation of this season, the shapeless meandering of so much filler plot, and commentary that was ham-fisted and anvilicious when it was there at all...It’s not like this was bad. It wasn’t bad. It was just so much less than what I expected or hoped to see.

#Brooklyn Nine-Nine #Brooklyn Nine-Nine season five #Bechdel Test #female representation #full season review #B99

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tsarinatorment · 5 years ago

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Ohhh I'm excited! How about question 13, 18, 19, 20? ;)

...I was not expecting to actually get any asks. Thank you so much!

13) Who is your least favourite character to write for? Why?

Ouch, go for the hard questions why don’t you :P I can’t really name a single character because I write so many different fandoms (some of which with a huge cast) but my least favourite type of character to write are the straightforward kinda dumb ones. An example would be someone like Luffy, from One Piece, I guess? Although Luffy does have that other part of him that’s easier to delve into and I have written him on occasion and enjoyed it. It’s just the characters that jump straight into things, don’t think things through, just plain don’t think.

It’s just too hard to get into the head of a character that doesn’t seem to think!

18) Do you have any abandoned WIP’s? What made you abandon them?

Many. Many, many, many. They get abandoned for various reasons - I fall out of love with the plot, I just can’t get the words to work properly and it’s not coming out the way I want it to, more canon info comes out and renders them too AU for my liking... So many reasons to ditch WIPs. I have 10-word WIPs and I have 50k word WIPs, and while many of them I have categorised as ‘on the backburner’, chances are I’ll never touch many of them again.

19) Are there any stories that you’ve written that you’d really love to do a sequel to?

I have a few with planned sequels... which will eventually happen. Hopefully.

The Combat School (Harry Potter/D.Gray-Man) is slated to get a sequel which is currently tentatively named Black Phoenix, but I’m waiting for more DGM canon (preferably the manga to finish) before I start to work on that in earnest.

Uboku Koroshi-ya (Naruto) is less getting a sequel and more being turned into a snapshot-type multichap. I have another few chapters written already but it’s not a high priority right now.

I’d also love to expand on Bedtime (Should Not Be 4am) (Thunderbirds) with some next-day fallout and reactions. Nothing’s written yet but I have ideas, helped by the fact I wrote it literally last Saturday so it’s still in my head!

There’s a part-written addition to Hope (Thunderbirds) as well, but it’s doing the thing I mentioned in the previous question and refusing to flow properly so whether or not that’ll ever come to something is up in the air.

Hero (Thunderbirds) also has scope for a sequel which would be fun to do, but that’s got no planning or anything at the moment, just a off-hand fancy.

That’s all for complete fics, but Uchiha Itachi (Naruto) also has an entire series planned, if I ever actually finish it.

20) Are there any stories that you wished you’d ended differently?

Honestly endings (alongside beginnings) are my nemesis, and finding somewhere to actually stop fics in a good place is tough, especially as I find myself most often writing oneshots reacting to a moment in canon so there’s no real over-arching plot as such.

None of my recent fics are standing out in my mind, though, mainly because I still can’t think of a better ending for them. Unwanted (Naruto) was my first-ever fic, and I feel like that shows badly. I’ve considered rewriting it on occasion, but honestly I find it so cringe-worthy now I don’t think I could, so it stays on my AO3/FFN accounts alongside my other 2009-2010 messes as a reminder of how much I’ve (hopefully) improved.

-----

Thank you so much for the ask, anon! If there’s anything else you or anyone else wants to know - either from the prompt list or just in general, my askbox is always open!

#fanfiction #one piece #naruto #harry potter #d.gray-man #thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #dgm #hp #crossover #ask

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douxreviews · 6 years ago

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The Punisher - ‘Trouble the Water’ Review

"He that sows the wind shall reap the whirlwind."

Frank Castle is a killer. That's what he does best, that's how he is perceived and probably how he perceives himself. This could have changed after he avenged the death of his wife and kids and decided to take a new direction in life. A clean slate. Maybe being a killer didn't define him after all. The second the circumstances asked for the Punisher, though, there he was again. But Frank Castle is also a hero. He has a good heart and does all he can to protect the innocent; his victims are the bad guys and he makes the world a better place every time he takes one down. But can a man with such brutal and animalistic methods ever be seen as a hero of the people?

One of the reasons I enjoyed "Trouble the Water" so much was that it portrayed Frank as a hero and gave him recognition for it. At the beginning of the episode, Sheriff Hardin is trying to put the pieces together and can't trust Frank, but as the hour unfolds and Frank displays his honor and battlefield capability, the Sheriff changes his mind.

Throughout the first half of the episode, nearly every choice the Sheriff made drove me nuts. Surely, he couldn't trust the three people he had in custody, but whatever Frank, Rachel and Marlena were involved with was clearly much bigger than what that small precinct was capable of handling. Hardin's obstinacy nearly got everyone killed. I honestly thought the situation was going to end with a huge blood bath and I was happy that was not the case. Well, not for the good guys, anyway. In the end, Hardin knew the only reason he and his team made out alive was Frank. When he thanked Castle for all he did, that was a rare validation for Castle and a well earned one.

The battle in the precinct was really well constructed. From the moment the power went down and communications were off, the episode delivered one great scene after another. Facing a nearly certain death sentence, Hardin and his deputies discussed the possibility of giving the prisoners away. That was realistic and I liked how no one was portrayed as selfish for considering that option. They just wanted to make it out alive and be reasonable about their odds, and Frank was literally asking to be sent outside. It took a gun-wounded Deputy Ogden to close the case and have them decide to take the more noble path. Seriously, Hardin had a good group of people with him.

Another moment of worth was the conversation between Hardin and Pilgrim. In last episode's review, Shari said "I am curious to see how someone who detests profanity, technology, and apparently casual sex is not averse to hiring assassins, buying off the police, or committing murder." Well, now we have an explanation for that. Upon identifying the Sheriff as a man of faith, Pilgrim suggests that he shouldn't waste his time protecting "godless people." And that's how usually these fanatic types justify the violence they perpetrate, isn't it? As long as the target are sinners, people who profess other faiths or "godless people," not only it isn't a problem to take them out, it might as well be God's work. It's despicable, really, but it's a twisted moral that makes sense to religious extremists.

The opening scene of "Trouble the Water" took us a little inside Pilgrim's world. We learned that his wife, Rebecca, is ill, they have two kids and he was commissioned by an influential religious couple, Anderson and Eliza Schultz – hello, Martha Kent –, to retrieve the photos Rachel is carrying around. The way Eliza walked with Pilgrim's children as she said she'd take care of them gave me the impression that Pilgrim didn't have the option of turning the mission down. Not that I think it matters to him, choice or no choice, he'd probably see it as God's will and go for it anyway.

Anderson said that one member of their group had been thrown in the Lion's Den. But we don't know what that means exactly, do we? The longer Rachel takes to explain what is going on, the more I resent her. On an intellectual level, I dislike this choice of hers because it's mostly a stalling technique to stretch this particular plot. But even accepting that this is how the writers chose to render the tale, I just find Rachel to be incredibly selfish. She is not evil, she even shows some sympathy for the people hurt in the crossfire, but she clearly doesn't care enough. There were bodies dropping dead left and right, and even before the possibility of more people getting killed trying to protect her, she still wasn't willing to give these people the grace of knowing what they were about to die for. On the other hand, I liked that she helped Frank get out of the handcuffs. Sure, she knew her survival chances would greatly improve, but I still enjoyed their silent understanding.

Elsewhere, Billy Russo is out and I honestly didn't think it would happen this soon. Who is right about him, Madani or Dumont? Billy is dangerous, full memories or not, so Madani has a point there, but is he faking it or is he truly damaged and traumatized? I'm not sure Madani is convinced it's all an act, I believe she is desperate to be on top of things for once, to be one step ahead, so she needs to commit to her theory. It's desperation, not professionalism, that is driving her every action right now, and she will be no match against Russo at this state. At least she was smart enough to take his diary and go get Frank. And what an entrance, indeed, with perfect timing. Now she saved Frank's life too and they can both help each other.

Bits and Pieces

- Title musings: "Trouble the Water," as explained in the episode, comes from the Bible and refers to a pool whose water was troubled by an angel and the first person to get into it would then be healed. John 5 narrates an occasion in which Jesus healed a man who never had anyone to put him into the moving water. The expression gained a new meaning with the song "Wade in the Water," sang by the choir in the beginning of the episode. The song says "God is going to trouble the water", a reference to when the Red Sea, parted to let the Hebrews pass, closes leading to the deaths of every men of Pharaoh's army. It's safe to say that Frank was the one who troubled the water this time, killing every men of Pilgrim's army.

- Where is Micro? I miss Micro.

- Deputy Murphy took a while to get out of the nothing-ever-happens-here mode. I loved her nonchalant attitude.

- Josh Stewart is doing good work as John Pilgrim, but Pilgrim's perpetual dead gaze kind of drives me nuts.

- So, Rachel's real name isn't Rachel, but I decided to call her Rachel in this review for the practical reason of still not knowing her real name. Some of her aliases are Susan, Peggy and Stephanie, and one of those could turn out to be her actual name.

- I liked that Rachel returned Ogden his five dollars.

- Anderson and Eliza Schultz sponsor Rebecca's medical treatment.

- Pilgrim has three faded tattoos, at least. One is some type of cross symbol, another one looked like a skull, and on his back the wings of an angel.

- I had the impression that the writers were setting up a possible partnership between Marlena and Frank. I was sad to see her go, but maybe she isn't really gone and now has a motive to switch sides?

- How did Frank leave the precinct without being seen by that army of killers?

- Russo with that mask, walking quickly holding a woman close to him, and no one thought something suspicious was going on? Really?

Quotes

Eliza: "If we serve faithfully, we will reap rewards."

Frank: "How's the leg?" Marlena: "Next time, I'll hit more than your hand." Inmate: "You two married? Sure sound married."

Sheriff Hardin: "I ain't buying this Pollyanna routine."

Sheriff Hardin: "Delayed gratification's good. It built the middle class."

Frank: "If you run, you can't see what's coming up from behind you."

I liked this episode a lot. Carefully constructed, climatic and with a wonderful payoff. Three and a half out of four Bible quotes.

Lamounier

#The Punisher #Frank Castle #Billy Russo #Dinah Madani #Marvel #Marvel Cinematic Universe #MCU #The Punisher Reviews #Doux Reviews #TV Reviews

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yuangler · 3 years ago

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Zodiac: Twelve Souls — 7

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Ruler and Subjects

“It’s finally done!”

news

— New translated chapter posted.

— Tumblr chews up formatting in weird ways, so I have been tweaking these posts to try to improve legibility. You may notice some cosmetic changes.

— Next update target: May 31, 2022

notes

— Harm the Ox Clan at no gain:

Somewhat simplified. The original phrase, shown below, more precisely means something like, “…to the Ox Clan, a hundred detriments [upon itself] and not a single benefit.”

对牛族自身百害而无一利

— Dot dot dot:

In the panel right before Quan Diyan says, “I am going to Sevenstar Hill,” there is a bubble that contains only an ellipsis (“…”). This is technically an action bubble, not a speech bubble.

The bubble’s original contents:

yù yán yòu zhǐ 欲言又止

Wishing to speak, yet stopping.

All attempts to render this in English felt ham-fisted at worst and unnecessary at best. In the end, I decided that a simple “…” conveyed the feeling of the idiom better than any words could.

Kind of blows my mind that, in attempting to express a piece of language in another language, I ended up writing them both into nonexistence? Translation sure is wild

— Di-yuck:

Zhu Wujie refers to Quan Diyan as

那讨厌的家伙

or roughly, that annoying guy. Some light wordplay: the term for “annoying” (讨厌, tǎo yàn) shares the 厌 character with Quan Diyan’s name (犬地厌).

— Mid-Autumn extra - Tu Fei:

To understand why Tu Fei is here, one must first understand the significance of the moon in the Mid-Autumn Festival. Among the festival’s major traditions is 赏月 (shǎng yuè), admiring the full moon. (By design, the festival date always coincides with the night of a full moon.)

The moon itself is sometimes described metonymically as 玉兔 (yù tù, jade hare), in reference to the rabbit companion of the lunar goddess Chang’e. Here, Tu Fei simultaneously plays the role of the Jade Hare and Chang’e in Mid-Autumn iconography. Well done, A’Fei!

Also. Both the Jade Hare and Chang’e are closely associated with the elixir of immortality, so the line in the accompanying poem that wishes for longevity is very appropriate.

— Mid-Autumn extra - poem:

The specific poem in question is 《水調歌頭·明月幾時有》 (shuǐ diào gē tóu: míng yuè jǐ shí yǒu, “Water Melody: When Will the Bright Moon Appear?”), by the poet Su Shi. Here are the original characters included in the extra, from the poem’s final lines:

dàn yuàn rén cháng jiǔ 但願人長久

Would that our lives be long

qiān lǐ gòng chán juān 千裏共嬋娟

That even across a thousand miles we may share this lovely moon

For those interested in the full poem, here is a translation by Qiu Xiaolong.

For those interested in vintage Mandopop, here is a version of the poem rendered into song by Liang Hongzhi and performed by Teresa Teng.

I like to think that what sets the Mid-Autumn Festival apart from other harvest festivals (I say, wisely, while knowing a grand total of ~2.5 harvest festivals) is its particular flavor of Yearning.

Backing up a bit. Or a lot, actually. Maybe a thousand-ish years.

Su Shi was a scholar-official of the Song Dynasty, a period when the civil service examination system was in full swing. Thousands of hopeful applicants would flock to these exams in any given year. Some, like Su Shi, may have been coming from a literati background, but for many, it represented their biggest shot at upward social mobility. So there were all these people aspiring to be Going Places, and to do so they literally had to Go Places: they often had to travel. Far. The Middle Kingdom of the Song Dynasty was not as big as the China we envision today, but it was still big! You had to travel for the exam and each successive tier for which you qualified. You had to travel to occupy whichever government posting you were assigned afterward. You had to travel when exiled on accusations of political crimes. It was not uncommon for people to be separated from their families for long stretches of time.

赏月: To admire the full moon. The fullness of the moon in Mid-Autumn is supposed to symbolize reunion and togetherness. Ideally, it would be a time of gathering, but when you are very far away from all your important people, sometimes all you can do is watch the moon and think of them. This, too, is part of 赏月, and tell me that this isn’t the most Yearning thing ever: that gazing wistfully at the full moon like you’re the main character of a period drama is an actual tradition built into your thousands-year-old harvest festival.

Su Shi wrote his version of “Water Melody” during the Mid-Autumn Festival of the year 1076. He was a scholar-official in a family of scholar-officials, all well-versed in the strain of separation. He wrote this poem, drunk, under a full moon. He wrote this poem thinking of his younger brother Su Zhe, whom he had not seen in seven years.

…

Most of this post ended up being about a single bonus drawing that wasn’t even part of the main comic. Sorry! Sometimes you just get a lot of feelings about the Mid-Autumn Festival, deep into May. These things happen.

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#生肖十二魂 #twelvesouls #manhua translation #quan diyan #zhu wujie #tu fei #chengyu #mid autumn festival #su shi #chinese poetry

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docholligay · 7 years ago

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CCC

This is OLD OLD stuff. I’m.....not entirely sure why I stopped cracking at it, it’s a little weak, but it has good bones. I can see where I’m going with it. Ah well, it’s about 2,300 warning taht I literally stop mid sentence

Censhi Combat Camp had always been Mina’s domain, stupid spelling and all. A week in the woods, away from it all, whether anyone else liked it or not. War games, one on one combat work, sparring, all that and some s’mores too. And it made a certain amount of logical sense—she was leader, and certainly if anyone knew how to polish her troops like chrome, it would be her.

But while she was willing to give Mina a certain amount of leeway in her methods, Rei was certain that, in some slight twist of destiny, she could have been leader. Number one, instead of number two. And, perhaps (not even truly perhaps, in her mind, but certainly) she would have been better at it than Mina.

Mina laughed when she asked to run CCC that year, but she’d agreed with a wave of her hand, and an insincere wish of good luck.

And now they were gathered in the woods.

“As the second in command,” Rei boomed, somehow making the word ‘second’ feel smaller than the rest of the sentence, “I’ve come up with an activity for us all to improve ourselves. I told all of you to bring a notebook and a pen.” she looked hard out at her audience, until Usagi clicked her donut pen on to assure Rei that she had, in fact, brought it, and that seemed enough a salute to her genius to allow Rei to continue. “Good. I want you to write—“

“Is it a poem about our feelings?” Mina called from her seat next to the fire pit.

Rei shook her head, her jet black hair casting decisive lines. “No, it’s—“

“There once was a girl named Michiru.” She grinned and tucked her hands behind her head.

“Mina.” Rei stared at her as if she could open up the floor beneath her.

“Whose butch swore her loyalty was true.”

“Mina.”

“But she laughed, ‘How absurd, I don’t know what you heard, I joined not for the war but to fuc—‘“

“MINA!!” She took her notebook, elegantly leatherbound, with her name in gold leaf on the cover and painstakingly chosen for the occasion, and, before she could think, threw it as hard as she could at Mina’s head. It was doubly disappointing when Mina caught it right in front of her face.

“Nice toss, but I think that’s a walk in any country.”

Rei ignored her and tossed her hair behind her head, ignoring the snickering coming up from the girls. She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath, her fists slowly unclenching.

“What we’re going to do,” she spoke slowly but firmly, “Is list our weaknesses,” she opened her eyes, refreshed, at looked out at the other girls, “your faults, your frailties, your failings, reasons you’re not a very good senshi, or a person even! There’s so much for us to improve.”

Mina sighed and buried her head in her palms. “Sheesh, Reinaldo.”

Rei ignored her and continued on. “I want you to think REALLY hard about what makes you a personal liability to the group. We’ll make our lists in our notebook, and then we’ll go over them together.” She put her hands on her hips proudly. “This will make us all stronger!”

The girls all looked back at her with a mild look of horror, save for Mina, who was walking to the cooler, and Michiru, who was studiously filing her nails.

“Okay, good!” she beamed in her obvious success. “Now everyone take your notebooks, and go sit for some quiet reflection.”

They grumbled, a bit, but they obeyed, and Rei grinned proudly as she walked around the campsite, her own notebook in hand. Mako sat cross-legged on top of the picnic table, Ami tucked inside the tent, Haruka sat out in the field of wildflowers, and Michiru sat neatly at the edge of a rock. It appeared she was using a watercolor palette. Oh well, she could write in watercolor, probably.

*****

She held up an elegant cream notebook. “Michiru, this is a painting of Haruka bent over her notebook in the wildflowers.” She looked seriously at Michiru, who shrugged.

Mina called from her space by the fire pit. “And somehow I feel like that’s a valid answer for her!”

Rei looked back at the tenderly rendered picture, and back out at Michiru, “I mean that’s not really—how are you supposed to—“she looked back at the notebook, every strand of Haruka’s hair delicately detailed. “I mean, THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT.”

Michiru shook her head softly. “My apologies, Lieutenant Commander Mars, I must have misunderstood the instruction.”

Rei put her hands on her hips, still clutching Michiru’s notebook. “Oh, you did not. Fine.” She tossed the notebook over her shoulder and picked up the next one, a glittering bright orange. “Ass is very distracting to Sailor Mars in batt—MINA.” She glowed a hot red, and even she was not sure if it was from anger or embarrassment.

“I feel like my ass is a real liability to the team! How can you possibly shoot straight—not that you do anything straight, mind—but I mean really, how, when you’re staring at this magnificent finely-carved marble?”

“Next.” Rei remarked flatly, picking up a notebook covered in donuts. “Sometimes, I,” she looked back out at the girls, “Oh look, SOMEONE took improving themselves seriously,” she cleared her throat and continued, “Sometimes, I take too much time to think over a situation, and lose the opportunity of a moment.” She looked at Usagi and shook the notebook at her. “You copied off Ami? Did you REALLY THINK I WOULD FALL FOR THIS, USAGI?”

Usagi grabbed the notebook from Rei’s hands and scrawled hurriedly. Cries when Rei is mean.

“Usagi!”

Usagi grabbed the red leatherbound notebook and wrote inside. Is mean.

There was a chuckle from the fire pit, and the sound of a beer cracking open. Mina was kicked back in her chair, one toe touching the ground.

Rei marched over to her. “And what are YOU doing?”

Mina took a drink. “Enjoying an ASTOUNDING amount of job security.”

Rei kicked over her chair and swiped the beer out of her hand grumpily. “Nobody is taking this seriously! I am just trying to improve all of you!”

Mina dusted herself off. “Who votes to keep ‘is mean’ on Rei’s list?”

Rei was astounded to see that the Senshi could all agree on one thing after all. See, her activities were getting somewhere. She picked up another notebook.

“I don’t think before I go sometimes.” She looked out at Haruka, who kicked at the ground with her foot. “Is that the only thing on your list? Really Haruka? I mean, it’s true, you don’t think, but there are so many more things I can think of that—“

“Rei.” Michiru spoke for the first time, and locked eyes with her, and the girls held their breath as neither of them moved or spoke.

Rei was strong, but not stronger than Michiru’s protection, and she acquiesced. “Anyway, at least you put down a real answer.”

Haruka stood up and kicked the chair behind her, throwing it a few feet to the dirt and very narrowly missing Mina, who did not so much as flinch. “This is fucking stupid anyway.” She pulled on her sweater despite the sun of the day, and pulled a beer out of the cooler as she walked away into the woods.

Michiru rose quietly. “Agreed.” She slipped off into the woods without another word.

Rei clapped her hands together. “Okay, so who’s ready to make ideas for improvement!?”

The girls sat silently, a tapestry of different looks on their faces: Boredom, sadness, frustration, and Mina, grinning in the back.

“Think you’ve lost ‘em, fireball.”

***

It was quiet at the campsite, after the hubbub of today. Mako was cooking something that smelled of cinnamon and citrus in the big cast iron pot, after a rich dinner. Michiru, Rei, and Pluto were off doing something…scrying, it might have been, something particular to their gifts, and for once, Mina approved of Rei’s tactic. The Seers each only had a piece of the puzzle, and they had to work together to build a picture. They had to. Lives depended on it.

She poked through the field, not thinking about much in the evening light, when a dash of white caught her eye. She picked it up, a crumpled piece of paper with cartoon teddy bears on the border, a list covering it, the writing harder and darker as it went down the list.

· Doesn’t hear very good

Runs into stuff without thinking

· Says shit I don’t mean

· Eats too much sugar

· Smokes (sometimes)

· Too loud

· Too skinny

· Doesn’t pay attention

· Stubborn

· Stupid

· Failure · Murderer

“Ah, bud,” she sighed heavily, “Rei I sure as shit hope you put ‘needs to cultivate people skills’ on your list.” She had noted Haruka’s absence at dinner, but that hardly mattered—Michiru had a campsite for the two of them off a ways, well-stocked with a canvas tent and a real bed, gourmet food and wine. It was about as rough as Michiru could bear to get, and it was nicer than some people’s apartments.

Mina tucked the note into her shorts and ambled over toward Haruka and Michiru’s campsite. It had been an almost certain fact that Haruka would take this thing too personally. Her and Ami both.

“I mean, technically you’re only an attempted murderer.”

“Do you think I’m a total fuck-up, Mina?”

“I mean, no more than the rest of us.”

Haruka snorted, and Mina patted her leg. “No, I’m serious! We’re all a little fucked, but you’re not a bad person, Haruka, I know bad people. Bad people do not sit by the creek and feed minnows and cry.”

“I wasn’t crying.”

“Bad people do not sit by the creek and feed minnows and have an extreme allergic reaction or whatever we’re calling this.” She popped a marshmallow into her mouth. “More importantly, bad people don’t make lists of why they’re bad and get upset about it. And you’re not stupid. And you’re not a failure, and you gotta stop telling yourself that.” Haruka turned away toward the creek, and Mina grabbed her face and turned it to hers. “Listen. Whatever lie you were told when you were a kid, it’s not true. It’s not true at all.”

Haruka swallowed hard, and Mina hugged her tightly, until Haruka let herself relax

“We gotta find a better outlet for your frustrations, you damn near nailed me with that chair.”

“Sorry.”

“You know, if you ever decided to share your feelings with the class…none of the girls would make fun of you, or anything.”

Haruka shrugged. “What’s the point, they already hate me. Everyone does, except Michiru.” She looked off. “I can’t be their friend, so I may as well be someone who can protect them.”

“What am I, a pile of pig assholes?”

Haruka laughed. “Okay, everyone else.”

Mina put her hand on Haruka’s shoulder. “After this many years, have you considered that you don’t have to be some big unbreakable rock of a human being? It doesn’t look good on you.” Haruka shrugged again. “Ruka, you think it’s what people want from you, but it’s not.

She shrugged again, and threw another marshmallow to the minnows

***

“Rei, you gotta remember this is a people job.”

“Everyone is just being DIFFICULT, on PURPOSE, while I am TRYING TO HELP.” Rei was incensed. No one paid attention to her plans, the ones she’d worked so hard to make, and everyone was making a mockery of it, and not being serious, and now Mina was lecturing her about what she needed to change, which was never meant to be a serious part of the exercise.

“Okay, but,” Mina shrugged dramatically, “Did you really learn anything new today? Did you need a list to know that Haruka jumps in too fast and Ami jumps in too slow? That Usagi doesn’t even know what she’s doing wrong? That Michiru doesn’t care? You should have known all this!”

“I just thought—“ Rei mounted her own defense, wondering when playful Mina had gone and serious, intense Mina had entered without her noticing.

But Mina was on a tear now. “I mean, so let’s look at Mako, she wrote down ‘sometimes forgets to pull her punch when she’s sparring with Haruka.’ Mako doesn’t forget shit, what this really says is, ‘I hold a grudge in a way that prevents teamwork.’ Which I knew. Which I’ve been working on by trying to build rapport between her and the lesbians. Rei, you can’t just tell people, ‘this is what’s wrong with you, fix it.’ People are more complicated than that.”

“God,” Rei crossed her arms and her brow furrowed, “Sorry I hurt Haruka’s feelings, Mina, I know she’s your friend, but—“

“Not even remotely about that! But let’s take Haruka. This is the EXACT wrong activity for her. She’s sensitive, and it hurts her feelings, and when she gets her feelings hurt, or she’s scared, she turns into an asshole. It’s also the wrong activity for Michiru, because, Rei, Michiru, does not give a fuck. Not one. If you ever figure out how to motivate her outside of dangling Haruka over a tank of man-eating sharks, let me know.” She clapped her hands together in front of Rei’s face to punctuate each word. “You have. To pay. Attention.”

Rei was whirling now, defensive and angry. “So EVERYTHING I do is wrong, and EVERYTHING you do is right.”

“I’m not saying that, goddamn Rei, I’m trying to teach you how to be leader!”

“Why? What about your precious job security?”

“BECAUSE I MIGHT DIE, REI.” Her voiced echoed through the trees, and then the forest became very still, holding its breath in respect to the cruel reality of the shadow that hung over top of them. “I might die. And then you’re it. And you have to know how to deal with them, or they’ll scatter, and fall, and we’ll all die, and Usagi too.” She took a deep breath and continued. “Ami doesn’t like to be yelled at. Haruka responds to praise. Mako and that’s where I stopped writing this.

#doc's cleanout

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to-the-moon-and-never-back00 · 4 years ago

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I'm here

April 30, 2021 2:15 am

Last day of the month. Gusto ko lang balikan yung mga nangyari ngayon month of April and see kung may improvements ako when it comes to my mental health.

First, I cried less than last month 🤧 Dahil na rin siguro sa gamot and dahil tulog ako most of the time at wala akong time para umiyak 🥴

I also feel less emotions than usual. I can't remember the last time I smiled or laughed out loud. All I can remember are nights when I was crying over my emotions na hindi ko mailabas. Hindi ko maintindihan yung nararamdaman ko most of the time. Minsan nakatulala lang ako.

For the first time, I felt peace. Nangyari lang siya once or twice ata. Yung wala talaga akong naramdaman na lungkot at worries. The feeling is unfamiliar. Nilalabanan ng utak ko yung "feeling" na yon kasi hindi ako sanay. And that "feeling" itself gave me a whole new anxiety. It was as if I was numb, kaya sobrang natakot ako. I was crying for hours. Kung kailan akala ko na payapa na ulit pakiramdam ko doon ulit ako inatake ng anxiety. When will it end? No matter hard I try to fight, lagi akong bumabalik sa ilalim. Its tiring. This whole thing is an endless cycle.

On the brighter side, I cried less. Minsan na lang yung mga anxiety attacks, hindi na palagi. I always have enough sleep a day. I'm taking my time to fully understand myself. I have more "me time". I tried to focus on myself. Literal na I detached myself from the social media world for a while. Its actually nice not trying to live up other people's expectations on you. I was busy pushing myself to heal para sa iba and then I realized I'm doing it wrong all this time. Sure, my family want me to get my life back together because they need me. Sanay na sanay na ako na gawin lahat ng bagay para sa iba, to the point na kinakalimutan ko na sarili ko. I was too pressured last month kaya lumalala. Kaya naniniwala ako na iba iba talaga yung pacing ng bawat isa when it comes to healing.

But again, "too much" is not good. I detached way too much. To the point na iniisip ko lang is 'sarili ko lang kakampi ko and I don't need anyone else para malagpasan lahat ng to'. Narealize ko to ngayon, I can't just turn away and leave. I don't have the heart to turn my back on those people na hindi napagod na initindihin at suportahan ako. Bakit ako lalayo? Pinapatunayan ko lang sa ego ko na kaya ko mag-isa when in fact, hindi talaga lol. At one point I was as hard as a shell. I was too hard on myself,, again. Di na ako natuto.

'Til now I'm still trying to figure out my next step kasi di pwedeng ganito ako habang buhay, I have to move on with life. Kahit gaano pa kahirap ang buhay, we need to keep up with it. We'll only be stronger as we went through it. That's growth✨

On the second note, I finally submitted my freakin resignation letter. After so many months of avoiding anything work related stuffs. I even ignored my manager for weeks. I was almost tagged as AWOL, eventually naintindihan rin naman nila reason ko though its still unprofessional. But yeah, rendering na ako and my last day will be on May 12. I'll be free in no time 😊

Right now, I try to go back to my usual hobbies, like reading. I m reading a lot I even bought a pdf copy—yes binili ko sa shopee 🤧— of the Firebird series and book 1 palang ako which is entitled "A thousand pieces of you" 💕 Sci-fi siya and I luvv it cause science heart heart hahaha. Kumakanta ulit ako. Music makes me happy talaga. I really can't live a day without it. Make up, don't me. I feel so so confident with make up on. Kahit nga red lipstick lang eh 🤧 It was my coping mechanism for the past few years as if make up will cover up my mental health issues 😗✌🏼 and I'll take a selfie kasi catfish ako at sa picture lang ako maganda 😩 sad truth.

Anywayss, napaka haba na nito ugh. Thanks for your time catching up with me.

I know its hard, this pandemic is making it worse 😩. I know hindi lang ako yung nahihirapan and all of us are facing different struggles in life. Kaya we deserve a little celebration for ourselves kasi we are strong enough to continue life kahit mahirap. Don't forget to breathe/pause when everything is in shambles, afterwards you can continue. Ang dali dali sabihin no, pero mahirap gawin. We can do it frends. I know we can.

Hey you! Thank you for being with me at my worst. I love youuuu huhu. I'm cryinggg. I can't believe I have you with me this whole time and nandito ka parin 😩 I'm forever grateful. Promise, a time will come na lahat ng to babalikan nalang natin kasi nalagpasan na natin siya. I'm living for that day to come 😊

Sincerly,

Laila

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heloisedc · 4 years ago

Text

Pygmalion Relations

Hair

Wandering in the public square, a lit lantern in hand in the middle of the day, […] A garden more inviting than Eden would […] meet my eye.[1]

Once you arrived, I studied you and was pleased with what I found.[2]

I went to see him the next morning, and received an invitation to dine there, which I accepted.[3]

He was of utter beauty, grazing perfection. The reproduction of the image of the Vitruvian man […][4] He was transparent but impenetrable.[5]

The situation of this house was beautiful, though chosen for convenience.[6] So far as this technic expression of size and power are concerned, I look on the hall as nearly perfect, and were this the highest or even a high class of beauty we need not go further[7] In this sense, it came closest to the idea of perfection, which is the starting point and goal of all art.[8]

His face was distorted[9] And his nose was misshapen, too. Not much, to be sure […].[10] But the perfect proportion and symmetry of his body and frame rendered him beautiful. His skin texture was perfect, the individual hairs on head and body had been lovingly and intricately manufactured and placed.[11]

Oh, how beautiful and stately wast thou on the high couch reclining in the hall![12] He had given great attention to realistic detail, rendering each feature with painstaking precision, whether or not it could in actuality be so seen within the image as a whole.[13] The dishes gave as much pleasure to my imagination as to my palate; sometimes the little piece of nature from which they had been extracted, the rugged holy water stoup of the oyster in which lingered a few drops of brackish water, or the gnarled stem, the yellowed branches of a bunch of grapes, still enveloped them, inedible, poetic and distant as a landscape, evoking as we dined successive images of a siesta in the shade of a vine or of an excursion on the sea […]. [14]

This dinner, although without preparation, was splendid.[15] And The evening was extremely calm and beautiful.[16]

After scaling a ruinous staircase I was shown a bed chamber,[17] where I was invited to stay the night.

Brain

After some passing of time, we had gotten to know each other, and found that we were perfect for each other. I gave him all that I could, while he did the same for me.

It was evidently a case of “love at first sight” […][18]

I had done everything that I could for him I had already banished the shadow of the negative […].[19]

I had learnt that There is the care of the body to consider, health regimens, physical exercises without overexertion, the carefully measured satisfaction of needs.[20]

We would often spend the evenings in the living room, admiring each other.

Mouth

Everything happens, then, during the seconds of complete veiling. Hardly had it begun than a strange light, yellow and tawny, resembling nothing else, neither the evening nor the dawn, invaded the environment; the glory of orange light intercepted by the walls of my abode disappeared, giving way to a somber and magic bath […].[21]

The variant was the surprise bath, where I was taken down the corridors to the ground floor, and arrived in a square room with a vaulted ceiling, where a large bath had been constructed; I was then tipped backwards into the water. [22] Mild water? I found suds forming on my body and I rubbed hastily here, there, everywhere, judging it to be the wash cycle and knowing it would not last long. Then came the rinse cycle. Ah, warm. Well, perhaps not warm, but not quite as cold, and definitely feeling warm to my thoroughly chilled body.[23]

If a man is covered by an eruption you will mix flour of malt little by little in oil, you will apply (it) and he will recover; if he is still not cured, you will apply hot simtum and he will recover; if he is still not cured, you will apply the warm residue and he will recover.[24] If we employ extracts, they must have been recently prepared and preserved with great care.[25] Oiling out, making out, polishing, scraping, etc.[26] This new development came from the perfecting of the arts that imitate the human body.[27] When he awoke, he looked at his body and found it clean as virgin silver, […] whereat he rejoiced exceedingly and his breast expanded with gladness.[28]

Stomach

Now for his diet: for lunch honey, for dinner a biscuit and vegetables, meat infrequently.... In this way his body kept the same condition, as if on a straight line, without being sometimes healthy, sometimes sick, and without growing heavier Even outside the strictly Pythagorean context, regimen was regularly defined with reference to these two associated dimensions of good health maintenance and proper care of the soul.[29]

You can imagine my surprise when I had discovered a tremendous thing, it seemed to me.[30] The layout of a modern kitchen, […] designed to streamline all processes, from food storage and food preparation, to cooking on the stove and serving the finished meal on the dining room table, to dishwashing and the storage of cutlery and dishes.[31] The Greeks were not wrong in showing us the immortals constantly feasting, drinking ambrosia, and laughing endlessly.[32]

And there were always drugs around—most notably, the jars of white crosses and other uppers that he kept in the fridge next to his protein fortified milkshakes.[33]

I experience food beyond the meal not only while consuming it but also in the selection of certain products over others in meal planning and preparation.[34]

In the succeeding month, our health improved [35] even beyond what I had thought was the limit.

Muscle

The most striking interior volume is the central, double height hall that at once evokes memories of medieval great halls and is bathed with light from huge windows. […][36] Everything is mirror […] [37] It contained all sorts of apparatus: an exercise bicycle, wall bars, a rowing machine, a massage machine etc.[38] I begin by taking a mirror, look at my shoulders, examine my loins and thighs.

Entrance of the gymnast in gymnopedy, entrance of the gymnosophists, entrance of the professor of gymnastics.[39] How magnificent. By gymnastic exercises it was intended to harden his body, to sharpen his courage, and to prepare him for the fatigues and dangers […].[40]

The double ecstasy of the muscular effort in the thighs and calves, a powerful, almost metallic leap, a pause in the air that seems eternal, during which the body assumes positions and performs.[41] That there is absolutely no imperfection, is indeed, […], a proof of his being wanting in the highest qualities of architecture; […] and may well be studied for the excellence he displays in methods of levelling stones, for the precision of his inlaying, and other such qualities […].[42]

For almost nobody, except he be trained from the start and equipped with complete reason, can develop to perfect proportions, understanding when he should do certain things, and to what extent, and in whose company, and how, and why.[43]

No sculptor can possibly produce a first class work of art here on Gaia without a well-crafted Participation and the ones I produce of this particular type are considered excellent[…][44] We seem never to be altogether prepared for the resulting distress. If we do not literally shake, as I did […], we may experience an internal shudder that is the subjective equivalent of the overt trembling that occurred […]. While my physical shaking […] was observable by anyone standing near me, the inner shudder at my own bodily pain may not be visible to others even though it is felt intensely by myself, and felt as foreign to me. Some part of my body has become alien to me, split off from a coherent and unitary sense of self.[45]

He clearly abused himself, but in so doing rendered a stature I had never before had the blessing to see. Ideal form of excellence![46] But For what purpose?[47] He seemed beautiful and strong because he was not like me. I had found a new fascination for this incredible man, a man who seemed to have the ability to do anything.

My eyes alighted by chance on the massive mirror that hung opposite and I let out a cry: our reflections in its golden frame were like a picture of extraordinary beauty. It was so strange and fantastic […].[48]

I had found the strong man I needed and was as happy with him as it is possible to be on this funny ball of clay.[49] I had opened myself up to him.

We were now mutually bound together, the lighter being restrained by the heavier, so that he cannot fly off; while, on the contrary, from the lighter tending upwards, the heavier is so suspended, that I cannot fall down.[50] But there remain a double door, behind which I had never been allowed to go. A secret he was hiding from me.

So these two beings lived in this manner, high aloft, with all that improbability which is in nature; neither at the nadir nor at the zenith, between man and seraphim, above the mire, below the ether, in the clouds; hardly flesh and blood, soul and ecstasy from head to foot; already too sublime to walk the earth, still too heavily charged with humanity to disappear in the blue, suspended like atoms which are waiting to be precipitated; apparently beyond the bounds of destiny; ignorant of that rut; yesterday, to day, tomorrow; amazed, rapturous, floating, soaring; at times so light that they could take their flight out into the infinite; almost prepared to soar away to all eternity.[51]

Heart

Here the day has come; here the week of the lectistemium had begun.[52]

The physical effort was small, but the mental effort of trying to control without controlling was enormously difficult.[53] His only aim, his only possible aim, was to please me.[54]

I believed, however, that the soul could achieve temporary separation from the body in an ecstatic trance.[55] Is it truly possible to think without arriving at beauty, without penetrating the secret place where life bubbles up, without the transfiguration of the body?[56]

Prepared?[57]

A single locus of sexuality was acknowledged in social space as well as at the heart of every household, but it was a utilitarian and fertile one: the […] bedroom. [58]

At the sight of him, I felt myself bewildered — every sense was absorbed in ecstasy.[59]

Then begins the body to body of discourse with and against silence.[60]

Air fills the thorax; ten liquids circulate through the vessels and pores; fire sets the heart, the genitals and the brain ablaze; the humus models the human.[61]

The glorious light makes us drunk with joy and our sense of wonder has no limits. This pleasure is truly divine! What pure happiness we feel in the bottom of our hearts at this spectacle! What ecstasy! No, we cannot possibly give expression to it! At this season nature’s work is done; everything is the image of perfection; everything has acquired a clearly defined form that is full blown, accurate and pure. Outlines are clear and distinct; their maturity gives them noble, majestic proportions; their bright, vivid colours have acquired all their brilliance.[62] Then the engine was started, the machine ran along the ground, gathered speed, until finally, all of a sudden, at right angles, I rose slowly, […] as it were static ecstasy of a horizontal speed suddenly transformed into a majestic, vertical ascent.[63]

Now, drawn out from his body, his sinews formed a bundle of dark, shiny stalks, not unlike the bundle of lightning bolts that lay beside him, although these were bright and smoking.[64] Now between the dry head, more than dead, almost abstract, empty and dessicated, suitably objectivized, wholly exterior, pierced, visible, nameable, articulated, analyzable, between the skull and the rest of the world, a circumstantial halo of light, like the ones worn by the great saints, replaces, at bone level, the lining of flesh, fat, muscle, organs, skin, veins, tendons, hair, radiance, charm, beauty, glory. Thus the body thinks. The body thinks therefore shines.[65]

the body becomes an architectural structure, moving masonry, a ship; the skeleton becomes a firm framework, with tie beams and rafters; the muscles form the wall and partitions.[66]

Moments are points of rupture —ephemeral, euphoric, revelatory of the total, radical, sometimes revolutionary possibilities latent in everyday life.[67] Everything that I can see in this body produces in me ecstatic wonder.[68]

Then, having risen to so high a pitch, having been sustained with so much vigour, the chant, mingled with a murmur of supplication in the midst of ecstasy, seemed at times to stop altogether like a spring that has ceased to flow.[69] This music makes me cry because I am not like it, not something complete, which turns toward the lost sweetness of life like a distant quotation. Happiness can only be thought of as something lost, as a beautiful alien. It cannot be anything more than a premonition that we approach with tears in our eyes without ever reaching it. [70]

I was absolutely in a state of ecstasy, and, involuntary, sinking on my knees, I passionately extended my arms towards him, certain he could not hear, and having no conception that he could see me; but there was a fireplace at the end of the room that betrayed all my proceedings.[71] And when I got into the open air, I heard distinctly, as the night was still, the distant sound of a door unlocking.[72]

When the door in front of him finally opened, he stared straight into a hallway, [73] which seemed to stretch out into the infinite. At the end of this couloir, a door.

I prudently walked towards it.

Womb

As I opened the door, I heard a sort of echo in the roof; it sounded like voices and it began to shake my Roman courage.[74] I entered and was taken aback by The blackness, […] the vast emptiness stretching out infinitely.[75] Deep, dark, dank, dismal silence.[76] the infinite void of space[77] But is that emptiness not also the ultimate plenitude?[78]

The darkness embraced him lovingly.[79]

There are beauties that are more palpable and explicable, and they are hidden and secret beauties.[80] I walked into the vastness, the door closing behind me. I almost slipped after taking a step Because the ground was wet.[81]

His hands were stroking my body anxiously, but with care and love. And it did touch me in somewhat the same way; it also brought close to me things of the kind which we not only see with our eyes but feel also in our hearts.[82]

I felt my way along the moist walls, until I let go and walked freely. My feet touched something, laying on the floor. Something that felt like A small bit of steel.[83]

That was the little thing, or the beginning of the little thing, that was soon to become the big thing.[84]

[…] the ‘first chaos’, the absence of order in perfect order, the absence of all relation.[85]

Thus, the creation began. A primordial action, statuary repatriates mass— strange, inevitable, ceaselessly returning, equilibrium and content of the world, first object—by unifying it, like a thing; by individuating it, like a body; by localizing or marking a space by its means; by stabilizing mass like a dead thing or body; by therefore stopping time; by giving mass limits it cannot leave, by defining it or even by inventing the act of defining.[86]

Through this technique, […] a new object was being formed; slowly, it superseded the mechanical body, the body composed of solids and assigned movements, the image of which had for so long haunted those who dreamt of disciplinary perfection.[87]

It shall be perfect therefore, as its Father which is in heaven is perfect.[88]

After Twelve years, three months, and four days,[89] it’s complete![90]

Finally, all the parts that have contributed to the perfection of the work which we admire[91] came together, forming the one, most sublime, most charming, most graceful, most splendid, most touching being.[92]

[…] more safely guarded by its walls, more superb in palaces, more ornamented in respect to temples, more beautiful by virtue of its buildings, more illustrious in its porticoes, more splendid in its piazzas[93]

In an ecstasy of joy, […], we reiterated, stroking and patting it as though it were a horse that had just come first past the post: “You’re the most beautiful being we know, do you hear?”[94]

[1] Wollstonecraft, Complete Works

[2] Asimov, Complete Robot Anthology

[3] Rousseau, Collected Works of Jean-Jacques Rousseau

[4] Hays, Architecture Theory since 1968

[5] Hugo, Les Miserables

[6] Wollstonecraft, Complete Works

[7] Fergusson, An Historical Inquiry into the True Principles of Beauty in Art

[8] Mallgrave, Architectural Theory

[9] Asimov, Complete Robot Anthology

[10] Asimov, Complete Robot Anthology

[11] Asimov, Complete Robot Anthology

[12] Seneca, Complete Works

[13] Chilvers, A Dictionary of Modern and Contemporary Art Oxfor

[14] Proust, In Search of Lost Time Vol III The Guermantes Way

[15] Rousseau, Collected Works of Jean-Jacques Rousseau

[16] Wollstonecraft, Complete Works

[17] Wollstonecraft, Complete Works

[18] Darwin, The Descent of Man and Selection in Relation to Sex

[19] Deleuze, Difference and Repetition

[20] Foucault, The History of Sexuality Volume 3

[21] Serres, Biogea

[22] Foucault, History of Madness

[23] Asimov, Complete Robot Anthology

[24] Serres, History of Scientific Thought

[25] Laennec, A Treatise on the Diseases of the Chest and on Mediate Auscultation

[26] Gombrich, Art and Illusion

[27] Younes, The Historical Dictionary of Architecture of Quatremere De Quincy

[28] The Book of the Thousand and One Nights

[29] Foucault, The History of Sexuality Volume 2

[30] Serres, Hermes Literature Science Philosophy

[31] Teige, The Minimum Dwelling

[32] Serres, The Parasite

[33] Davis, High Weirdness

[34] Zimring, Encyclopedia of Consumption and Waste

[35] Laennec, A Treatise on the Diseases of the Chest and on Mediate Auscultation

[36] Cruickshank, A History of Architecture in 100 Buildings

[37] Deleuze, Cinema 2 The Time Image

[38] Bourdieu, Distinction

[39] Serres, Genesis

[40] Smith, An Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations

[41] Serres, The Five Senses

[42] Ruskin, The Stones of Venice

[43] Seneca, Complete Works

[44] Asimov, Complete Robot Anthology

[45] Casey, The World on Edge

[46] Wollstonecraft, Complete Works

[47] Asimov, Complete Robot Anthology

[48] Deleuze, Masochism Coldness and Cruelty Venus in Furs

[49] Deleuze, Masochism Coldness and Cruelty Venus in Furs

[50] Pliny, Natural History Volume 1

[51] Hugo, Les Miserables

[52] Serres, Rome

[53] Asimov, Complete Robot Anthology

[54] Asimov, Complete Robot Anthology

[55] Schmitt, The Cambridge History of Renaissance Philosophy

[56] Serres, The Five Senses

[57] Asimov, Complete Robot Anthology

[58] Foucault, The History of Sexuality Volume 1

[59] Rousseau, Collected Works of Jean-Jacques Rousseau

[60] Serres, Hominescence

[61] Serres, Biogea

[62] Mallgrave, Architectural Theory

[63] Proust, In Search of Lost Time Vol V The Captive The Fugitive

[64] Calasso, The Marriage of Cadmus and Harmony

[65] Serres, Statues

[66] Serres, The Five Senses

[67] Hays, Architecture Theory since 1968

[68] de Montaigne, The Complete Essays

[69] Proust, In Search of Lost Time Vol III The Guermantes Way

[70] Sloterdijk, Critique of Cynical Reason

[71] Rousseau, Collected Works of Jean-Jacques Rousseau

[72] The Book of the Thousand and One Nights Supplementary Nights

[73] Kafka, The Trial

[74] Rousseau, Collected Works of Jean-Jacques Rousseau

[75] Asimov, Complete Robot Anthology

[76] Asimov, Complete Robot Anthology

[77] Serres, The Birth of Physics

[78] Foucault, History of Madness

[79] Asimov, Complete Robot Anthology

[80] Harrison Wood Gaiger, Art in Theory 1648 1815

[81] Hugo, Les Miserables

[82] Proust, In Search of Lost Time Vol III The Guermantes Way

[83] Hugo, Les Miserables

[84] Zizek, Less Than Nothing

[85] Serres, The Birth of Physics

[86] Serres, Statues

[87] Foucault, Discipline and Punish

[88] Tyndale, Doctrinal Treatises

[89] Asimov, Complete Robot Anthology

[90] Hovestadt Buehlmann, Quantum City

[91] Harrison Wood Gaiger, Art in Theory 1648 1815

[92] Frankl, The Gothic

[93] Smith, Architecture in the Culture of Early Humanism

[94] Proust, In Search of Lost Time Vol III The Guermantes Way

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