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pacinosgf · 2 months

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many old guard stars have succesfully made the transition into the digital era, but barbara ann robinson is not of them: no social media team or presence whatsoever, though is known that she keeps a tight staff running anything related to her work. since she started dating a (younger) girl a few years ago, she has made some appearances on the internet: besides showing up on her girlfriend's account from time to time, barbara now has an instagram account from herself, where she posts videos playing bass and piano from time to time with the help of her beloved girlfriend. still, no one imagined she would show up in 2022 to talk about her only dig at a solo career for spotify, celebrating the 40th anniversary of the cult classic contemplations and ramblings.

barbara ann: it's been 40 years since contemplations. that's more than half of my life. ( barbara chucks lightly to the camera, dressed in one of her famous flowy dresses and wearing her cowboy boots. ) so many things have happened since then. i've had girlfriends. i've broken up and reconciled with my husband. i've written some songs, we will get back to this. i've done some few shows. i turn 75 this year. it's been an eventful, mostly good, life. above everything, it's my life, and i think it's already obvious how much i like to ramble. i have always thought a bit too much for my own good, but it's important to contemplate from time to time, to remember where you came from and check where you are now. that's what i needed to do when i released contemplations. that was my remembering-and-checking moment.

barbara ann: so, the first song is core. i had just come back from what you could call a nervous breakdown. i was desperately trying to get back on my feet, all i had to talk about was this solid emptiness inside of me. when i realized i wanted to do this record, and i wanted the theme to be, you know, my contemplations, i knew i wanted it to go from low to high. i start the record by saying that i know i ruined it all, that i couldn't face myself and that, well, if you are here you know it- that breaking up with brooke wellington messed me up. but there i was now, ready to accept the punch and move on with my life. the only thing that could truly make me feel better was reconciling with her, and that was not going to happen, so. i had to go on.

( pictures from the robinsons personal archives are shown on the screen, with home videos of barbara in her home studio and newspaper cutouts about barbara at the time of her mental breakdown and the end of midnight mayhems. )

barbara ann: the second is don't tell me, the first one of many i wrote about brooke. you know, during my breakdown, i wasn't in the country, i was travelling. this is one of the first songs i wrote once i felt like myself again, probably at some european beach, while my husband pretended not to look what i was writing. it's me, finally letting some of this terrible pain crawl out of my body. if you don't know anything about the relationship me and brooke had, you'd think, by the lyrics, it was easier and ended better than it actually did. i still have this journal entry.

barbara ann: this is where the fun starts, and the point where the rock fans who bought the record finally shut up about all my folk and country. success would be a perfect country song, but i wanted a contrast between the desperate lyrics and the dancing sound. i like to think some kids danced over my lyrics complaining about how terrible were the shifts as a nurse and how nobody but me believed that i could make it as a singer. it's a personal favorite out of the tracklist.

barbara ann: here we come with success' sister, failure. thank god i became more subtle with time. also a rock song, now i admit that though i was in the top of the world at some point, i certainly didn't feel like it. i wasted that time worrying and once it was over i lost everything i loved. i had wasted all my years of hard work. when i listen to this one, i feel this sorrow all over again. it was not easy for me to admit that i had failed, that we had lost the war. but once again, the rythm distracts you from all that. failure is also an answer to brooke's playing your song, but i am only admitting this now.

barbara ann: annie is my childhood nickname and the fifth song of the record. it's the longest one. my parents were odd and shy people just like i am, and though they mainly expressed their love through giving me a bed to sleep and food to eat, they were very loving. as a girl, me having to get married and leave home destroyed them. if it weren't the fact that i had to get married so i could study and leave my town, i would have stayed with them forever. it took me long to get used to the idea that my family would now be my husband's family and my only connection with the family i was born would now be my memories. i loved them. after my first tour with the band, i came back home all excited to share that happiness with them. they weren't so pleased.

( three pictures of young barbara show up on the screen. barbara as a baby on her father's truck, barbara studying as a well-behaved teenage girl and barbara smiling for the camera on the day of her wedding, just a few moments before becoming mrs. robinson. )

barbara ann: the contemplations wouldn't be complete if i didn't come back to my childhood. i talk about running with the chickens all over our farm, about dreading my aunt's piano lessons, about being a young girl waiting for her lover to show up. about being a grown woman who had lived so much since then and wondering how that girl became this. i talk about how me and jim have been solid as a rock since the moment i agreed to be with him. i talk about how i never actually thought me and brooke would ever be over. i talk a lot. nowadays only jim calls me annie, since it's the person that has been the longest with me, and that's what i like about our relationship. he has seen and been through all the barbaras that i have been.

barbara ann: i go back to talking about brooke with crazy on you. it's quite a sensual song. our relationship wasn't all about sex, but it was a big deal for both of us. brooke was, is, a free spirit, and it took me long to follow her steps and stop being so repressed. i think she would still call me repressed. but here i reminisce our nights on tour, when everything was so intense and hot and there was nothing we wanted to do more than to go crazy on each other. i try to sing like she does, i reference her song ash. i really did not want to be subtle.

barbara ann: bait and love bites are sensual too, but in a different way. i acknowledge the complexities of our relationship, how one day we would be making love promises to each other and then the next day we'd say we were just messing around, and then the next we would break up. and repeat it all the next day. but it didn't matter, because we always came back to each other. even after all those years, if she called me, i'd drop anything to answer. i'm her bait. for love bites. and all.

barbara ann: we get to moving on, where i finally collect myself and stop crying over brooke. it was hard, but i did. there is a point where you learn how to live with the pain and the simple things that suddenly seemed so hard to do become simple again. i'd never get over her, but for my own sake, i had to pretend i could. and so i did.

barbara ann: it's a stroke of luck having myself again, i saw a girl in the street wearing this shirt once. stroke is my favorite song out of the released ones. it's me, being able to trust myself again, being able to live with myself again. i have the belief that you don't have to love yourself, but you can't make your own life harder than it needs to be. you have to at least be neutral about yourself, and i liked having myself on my side.

barbara ann: the last one is call her. it obviously doesn't match the rest of the record, but i needed to add it, so entranced i was by amèlie bergstein's charm, whom i met at one of those boring hollywood parties. she flirted with me and said i should make a new record, i promptly told her i had a few song written down. it's also the only song out of the album that became a hit, the song to her, the song about her. i know for a fact she loves it.

barbara ann: this is the official tracklist, the one i released way back in 1982. many songs were left out, and those, along some others that i have written over the years, will be released in contemplations and ramblings' special reissue for its 40th anniversary. i told you i had lived so much since then. ( barbara chuckles, and the camera lowers down to show the record cover she holds, a modern version of the contemplations one, with older barbara and her characteristic melancholic look staring at the camera. )

( once again pictures from the robinsons person archive show up on the screen, pictures taken since 1982. you can see barbara with her stepchildren, barbara and some of the girlfriends she had since then, barbara and jim at their ranch. )

barbara ann: we start the new batch with bw. somehow someone leaked it and now there are dozens of audios of the song around the internet. i recorded it so it could be on contemplations, but i thought it was too heavy for the record. i still think it's quite heavy. it's another song that i wrote during my exile, and you can see by all the traces of sorrow and bitterness in the lyrics. it's bw for brooke wellington. i couldn't find a better name for it, but the lyrics made up for the lack of a creative name. i've never been more honest in a song. this kind of love i wrote about back then, which is the love we had, is not one you get over. i lost myself when i lost her, and i got myself back by accepting that i could not get her back, but daydreaming about it should be enough.

barbara ann: on a brighter note, we have maybe love. it's about my husband. i've never written many songs about him, which i know upsets him and it's a flaw of mine. i was always very protective of our relationship, because i soon realized people understood brooke and dash's arrangement better than ours. brooke and dash were different people. they would scream and get their feelings out and they didn't care about anything as long as they were having fun. but me and jim worried, i felt bad because i loved someone else, he felt bad because he could never compare, we would suck it up until we finally exploded. but i also haven't written many songs about him because me and jim were real. solid. we existed in both of the worlds we lived. we were in the same band, but we also would go back home and do the groceries and i'd say that he had to fix the sink and he'd say i had burned the eggs again. the day-to-day mattered me. meanwhile, i had to resort to writing songs to talk about my relationship with brooke.

barbara ann: anyway, maybe love goes back to our early days, as boyfriend and girlfriend, as newlyweds. i remember the anxiety i felt about finally becoming a woman, going from girl to wife in a night. i didn't love jim from the start, but i wanted to, and as we progressed, as i felt it was safe to trust him... well, after so many years, we are still together, you see.

barbara ann: i sang this one in a midnight mayhems' concert once and it almost made it into the contemplations' setlist, but it's finally out. renegade is, obviously, about brooke, straight out of the midnight mayhems momentum. as i sang it and attentively watched her face so i could see what she was thinking, she held her head high and went on drinking her beer, left the stage a few times, didn't say much besides alright, enough with the moping. she had this thing about saying that she never needed anybody or anything, that nothing could ever affect her. we fought a lot about this. i wanted to be there for her, she wanted me to go easy and leave her alone. the drugs and the chaos gave her an escape from this life, while i wanted to pull her out of that. i couldn't accept to watch her destroying herself. sometimes i though she did it on purpose, kept fucking herself up so i would get tired of her or whatever. i couldn't understand her, she couldn't understand me. after i finished the song, just me, rambling alone on the mic and playing a made in the moment melody for five minutes, i remember dash said something like you are fucked up, barbara on his mic. as always, we aired the dirty laundry on stage. the only thing we did without a crowd, besides sex, was breaking up.

barbara ann: his song is about the years me and jim spent apart. i wanted to free him from our relationship, so i said he was free to go, to meet someone nice and have a normal relationship as he dserved. i wanted him to do it. but he felt i was getting rid of him, so he got back at me. if you are here, you know what happened, i don't wanna talk about it, but the song is i what i felt during those years. i thought we'd never reconcile. i still haven't forgiven him for what he did. but then again, he will never forgive me for falling in love with someone else. we will have to keep on living this way.

barbara ann: if it's been 40 years since contemplations, it's been a bit longer since the moment i told brooke i was leaving. we have done a few band reunions, we never had a proper relationship, but my love for her is still as strong as it was then. every girlfriend of mine has had to deal with her shadow, and i don't plan to get rid of it. this love keeps me grounded, as much i have suffered over it, as much as it is hopeless. as you age, you start to appreciate even the bad things that happened to you. i will always ache over the fact that we didn't work out, but at the same time it's such a beautiful feeling! i wouldn't trade it for anything. our love was fleeting and intense in a way that doesn't seem real. sometimes i wonder if she ever loved me too or if i simply want to believe she did. but what is the good in thinking so much? love is something to feel.

barbara ann: and i do feel. i never buried brooke's ashes, you see. i kept the memories as my allies in life, close to me so i could dip into them whenever reality felt too much. ashes is a song i wrote for contemplations, but it never made into the final cut. i think i only recorded half of it back then. jim asked me to not release it, and though he gave me no reason, i felt obliged to comply. he had never felt anything so strong about my work to the point he couldn't simply ignore it. but we have accepted our problems since then, enough that i'm releasing it now.

barbara ann: the same way i accept mine and brooke's relationship in ashes, i accept mine and jim's relationship in yosemite. we did good things for each other, we did bad things for each other, through affairs and children and breakdowns, we are the person each other wants to be with every day, and so we will, until we die.

barbara ann: we finish with years, baby sister to annie and stroke. it's me, talking to myself, once again thinking about everything that happened in my life and who i am in this world. ever since i was a child and even after i decided to retreat from living in the spotlight, people have been trying to tell me who i am, who i must be, and their words were once my sense of self. this is the past. the best thing aging gives you is that you realize that nothing really matters in this world, but that you must engage with life anyway. before we even know it, it's over, but we once lived.

@gllianowens

#ok essas são as musicas oficiais!#até que eu fale o contrário #o bebê é a stevie tar #nao um aleatorio #barbara ann.

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xxruinaxxmcu · 2 years

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Jack Thompson x Reader

What Lies Before Us

Masterlist (book 1, and previous chapters)

Chapter 9

Y/N made an effort to come up with a summary of her information that would be digestible in under multiple days’ worth of study, but she left some things out on purpose. For example, that during her time investigating, she had managed to find some ‘soldiers’ of the families that were willing to cooperate – for money, of course. She felt that sharing these names with her co-workers could work against her in the long run, or at least, work against the case she had built and hoped to pick up on at a later point. She trusted them, but the more people knew about a secret, the higher the probability became of someone spilling it by accident – drunk in a bar, or to their loved ones, or something. It also put them needlessly at risk, and she was pretty sure that she had enough blood on her hands for about ten lifetimes’ worth.

“Do you think it’s possible that it’s just a coincidence that the meeting’s in that area?”, Jack asked when she brought him the file.

“I don’t really want to bank on it”, she shrugged, “I wouldn’t know if there’s any connection between the crowd at our party and the mob, but then again, they’re interested in the same things. There might be more they have in common than what they don’t.”

Jack’s fingers drummed against the top of his desk as he skimmed the papers she had given him.

“Gives you a warm feeling knowing in what areas they’re working”, he remarked darkly, “from dumpster to suits manufacturing.”

“Yes, unfortunately the 1920s and 30s proved to have been great for business, and the war only secured their foothold”, Y/N commented, “many members came over to escape Mussolini. One of the stranger side-effects of fascism, I have to admit.”

“Any plans on switching professions and become a historian?”, he joked at her background delivery.

“Who knows, might pay just as badly as our job, but with significantly less gunshot-wound potential”, she retorted cynically, “besides, understanding how the current situation came to be is quite important. The landscape changed dramatically over just a few years, from Irish and Jewish gangs to an almost-monopoly from the Italians.”

Jack only scoffed: “So you could say Prohibition was a shot in the foot.”

“Very.”

“Does anyone know you?”, he inquired, “from the Mafia?”

Y/N tilted her head: “Not anyone that’s in the ability to stir any trouble.” She saw his questioning look and only winked.

“They’re dead?”

She nodded – many of them were, others were still alive, but not a threat either, because they wouldn’t rat on her, knowing the leverage she held against them.

“I’ll go through this”, Jack lifted the file, “then I’ll brief the rest.”

……

Going to these types of fairs was something the ordinary person never got to experience – and despite them being everything but ordinary, it wasn’t something that happened to Y/N and Jack on the regular, either. He had one up on her with Chadwick’s fundraiser, and that ended up in disaster. Good thing Underwood, Chadwick and Masters were all dead by now. Made a repeat incredibly difficult. However, Y/N still felt a sense of dread when she put on her dress for the night, which felt like something that should be worn by someone within the European nobility, certainly not a girl from New York that was more familiar with different knife-fight techniques than with ballroom etiquette.

Her dress was black, held up by thin straps and with decorative fabric draped across her chest and below her shoulders, and the fabric of her bust was decorated by reflective rhinestones. The skirt was looser, which allowed for easier movement – as well as a place to hide a weapon, as – unfortunately – she did not have the luxury of being able to hide her weapon in a shoulder girdle beneath a suit jacket.

Not certain if she liked what she saw in the mirror as it was such a foreign picture, reminding herself of the feeling looking at her reflection when she had to dress appropriate for German fairs in the 1940s, Y/N pulled a face before continuing to apply her lipstick. There was nothing she could do about it now – and she still preferred to go there, even dressed like this, rather than sending Jack with his men on their own.

Then, she walked out, into the living room of her apartment, where Jack was waiting for her to arrive. He looked up, raising his eyebrows.

“Not a word”, she hissed, knowing more than well she looked like a painted doll.

“What do you think I was about to say?”

“No idea”, she scoffed, “maybe that I look like a girl playing dress-up.”

“You look far too classy for dress-up”, he replied, holding up his arm for her to hold, more out of amusement at her mood, rather than thinking he needed the stability.

She sighed, looking at his suit: “Well, so do you. You’ll blend right in.”

“I’d return the compliment, but I’m sure you’d always stand out in a crowd. Anyways, I’d kiss you, but I’d ruin your look, and mine”, Jack said with a grin before leading her outside to his car.

“You’ve got the list of the Club members that should be there?”, Y/N asked, having herself studied it extensively beforehand.

“Yes, mother.”

Y/N huffed: “Wonderful. Because they’ll prefer talking to you than to me, I fear.”

Jack threw her a look: “They’re men, Y/N. They’d love talking to someone like you.”

“Like me?”, she shook her head, “I doubt they think I even have a brain.”

“Well, for most of them, other assets count more.”

She pulled a face: “Unfortunately, that will hardly help to figure out if they’re planning to blow up a city or something.”

“Aren’t you the one who told me that people do anything for love?”, he asked back with a lopsided grin.

“I’m not planning on making Mr. Hayes one of my next targets. At least not that way”, she shot back cynically.

“I wouldn’t allow that.”

She whipped her head around to face him: “What?”

Jack frowned: “D’you think I’d let them do the thing with you?”

“I think we’d do anything to finish a case”, she shrugged, “I mean, we’ve literally stormed buildings.”

“Yeah”, he scoffed, “I’d rather storm his facilities than resort to the other option.”

She knew where he was coming from, but she also knew that, in the big picture, it wasn’t necessarily rational. If it came down to it, the risks of another home invasion might very well be bigger than if she’d do it her way, though the thought of it alone was enough to gross her out.

“Thank the lord we didn’t have a thing before I went to Germany”, she remarked dryly, “it was difficult enough to not get married to them.”

“How’d you do it? Staying with them, I mean”, the question sounded sincere, not accusing at all. He knew very well that she had to do it.

“Honestly?”, she gave him a tight smile, “I thought about the moment when I’d get to kill them.”

“I really hope you let go of that habit with me.”

She boxed him in the arm: “Very funny, Thompson.” He only laughed, given she herself was obviously not offended and was grinning, too.

They pulled over in front of the establishment, where they met up with McKinley and Harrow, who were similarly dressed to Jack.

“Perimeter is secured”, McKinley informed, “All clear, till now.”

“Great. You know the drill, you head in, don’t show your weapons, get a feel for the crowd, ask the right questions”, Thompson said quietly, looking at the entrance, which was guarded by two well-built men.

“And let me do the talking”, he added, pointing to the men with his chin.

Jack walked up to the guards, flashing them his batch: “We’re here to have a look around, not to cause any trouble. You okay with that?” He was clearly insinuating that if they weren’t okay with his plan, he’d cause them more serious problems, so reluctantly, they granted the group of four entrance.

Y/N scanned the room. Aside from several members she recognised from the list of Arena Club members – incidentally, Mr. Hayes was present – she recognised some as most definitely being ‘soldiers’. She could see it in the way they stood outside of the main crowd, more observing than engaging with the guests.

“Careful”, she whispered to Jack before making her way towards the former Frost-associate, “don’t get your shoes filthy.”

She hoped that he got her euphemism, but she also knew that he was an excellent agent. He’d be fine.

“Mr. Hayes?”, she asked, mustering up a convincing smile, “I did see correctly!”

He eyed her, obviously asking himself if he knew her from somewhere.

“Oh, don’t worry, we haven’t met”, she said, doing her very best to adopt a German accent in her English, “Erika Neuhausen. I’ve seen you a few times in Los Angeles.”

He gave her a smile and kissed her hand: “I see. What were you doing in L.A.?”

“I moved there in the late 30s”, she gave him a telling look, “it was a better place to further my career than back at home, if you understand what I mean.”

It really wasn’t that difficult to understand what she was insinuating, but she also didn’t know how witty her conversation partner was.

“Of course”, he nodded and eyed her from top to bottom, leaving her feeling incredibly exposed, “You work in the show business, I assume?”

She supposed that she was dolled up enough to fit into that category this evening, and she gave him a small nod.

“Maybe the next Miss Dietrich?”, he asked curiously, and she was happy that he at least bought her act of being German.

“Oh, you flatter me immensely.” She leaned forward, more than aware that he probably saw deeper into her décolletage than she would have liked: “Tell me, Mr. Hayes, what does a man like you do in New York? Is local politics not a bit too dull for someone with your status?”

“Sweetheart, every seat matters, no matter from which coast or state.”

She tilted her head: “Oh yes?” She knew she couldn’t press him too hard, otherwise he’d grow suspicious, so she decided to pull the foreigner card. “What’s some of the more pressing political matters of the day, Mr. Hayes?”

“A lady like you doesn’t have to bore herself with it”, he gave her a pitiful smile, “You should enjoy the amenities of this event.”

“Oh, I will, I’m sure”, she sighed dramatically, “But you see, ever since I came here, I felt like a stranger to those around me. Maybe you can help with that.”

“There are two things that drive this country, money and power”, he said cryptically, “they’re usually behind every political decision that is made. The key is to be on the right side of power.”

She would have loved to tell him that she wasn’t interested in a riddle, but knew that she couldn’t say that. So instead of showing him her annoyance, she gave him an intrigued smile: “Power, Mr. Hayes, might just be the one universal currency.” She looked around, pretending to spot someone in the distance. “I’ll leave you to it, then, Mr. Hayes. It was an immense pleasure.”

She walked off, very happy not to see his smug face any longer. Arguably, she didn’t find out what he wanted, exactly, but whatever it was, it sounded ominous. Seemed like the Arena Club, decimation aside, still hadn’t given up on its goal to expand their own members’ power inside the country.

She spotted Jack talk to another member, and she could tell he was making an effort to engage with harmless small talk whilst teasing out the information he needed. She was about to make contact with him when a figure brushed past her, slipping her a note.

She pretended not to react, as she had a slight suspicion as to who it was that had slipped her the note. Once the man had walked past her, she looked to the side, seeing him disappear into the crowd. It was, as she had suspected, Anthony Lorenzo. One of her informants.

Y/N made her way to the restrooms, where she was able to open his note without being watched. She initially damned him for his ugly handwriting, which was almost harder to read than a German code.

Remember, Remember the 5th of November.

November was still a bit away, but she had no idea what he meant by that. Did they have something planned for the 5th of November? Or was it meant to be a code for something?

Storing the note in her bra, she left the restroom to re-enter the crowd again.

……

Jack was talking to George Heath, the CEO of one of America’s biggest manufacturer of artillery, who – as it turned out – was also a member of the Club Jack had grown to hate.

“You’ve been in the war, son?”

He had no real intention on sharing any war stories with the man, but he also knew that there was little more that impressed men like this than being told about one’s time at the front.

“Of course”, he nodded, “It was my duty, after all. Though I have to admit, unfortunately, all the artillery in the world didn’t really help us against the Japanese on Iwo Jima.”

The mention of the by now infamous battle brought a sense of admiration to the man in his mid-to-late 50s: “So I’ve heard. Don’t mean it never will, Mr. Thompson, I can assure you, my scientists are working day and night to provide even more lethal weaponry to the US Armed Forces.”

Jack took a sip from his drink and gave the man a tight smile: “I’d hope no one’d be dumb enough to attack us now, with us being the only ones with nuclear bombs at our disposal.”

“Until now!”, Heath’s face darkened, “You know how these things go, think back to poisonous gas. One side uses it, soon enough, everyone uses it. The key is to always stay ahead of the cattle.”

“I couldn’t agree more, Mr. Heath.” He noted to himself that though Mr. Heath sounded like a man who’d sell his soul for an edge over his competitors, he didn’t sound like he was in bed with communists.

“You know, Vernon told me a lot about you”, Heath continued, and Jack gave his best grieving face.

“Only good stuff, I hope, God bless his soul.”

“It was a tragic accident indeed”, Heath agreed, “Unusual, too. I tried getting a look at the report of what weapon caused it, but the feds wouldn’t say. You know something about that, son?”

“I’m afraid not much more than you do, Mr. Heath”, Jack evaded, “And if I’m honest, even if the scientists did explain it to me, I’m no artillery expert. Some sort of cannon, I think.”

“Yes, something in that manner.”

He looked around: “Son, ever thought about entering the world of politics?”

Jack scoffed at the question: “About as much as I have thought about getting into a pool with hungry sharks. No, sir, I’d rather serve my country, rather than run it.” He bit his tongue not to add – run it to the ground, which is what he suspected would happen if these guys took over the wheel.

“Who’d you vote for in the last election?”

“The last election?”, Jack frowned at the question, “well, Roosevelt. That was 1944. Didn’t think a leadership change during a war was that smart, you know? Also, we didn’t really have time to get a good look at the other candidate. Given we were trying not to die.”

“What’d you think of Truman?”, the question was enough to indicate that Heath himself would rather have someone else in office – which was obvious from the start, considering they were at a convention of the opposite party.

“I try to abstain from judging my employer, Mr. Heath”, Jack said with a small grin, “wouldn’t want to risk being booted.”

“With that tongue of yours you could’ve become a diplomat, too.”

Jack internally thought to himself that he would have made the worst diplomat in the world, but that he at least now knew what this guy wanted out of the next election: Truman gone.

“Thank you, sir”, he replied with a nod, seeing Y/N emerge from the restroom and meeting his gaze.

“If you need the SSR”, he grabbed a business card, “this is our line.” After he removed himself from Heath, he made his way across the room to meet Y/N, because he was more than certain she wanted to tell him something.

“You find anything?”

She gave him no response and instead looked in the direction of Heath: “Good chat?”

“As to be expected”, he shrugged, “Talked to half the men on our list. Doubt they’re in the Commie Camp.”

“Yes”, she tilted her head, “I don’t think that’s their Camp, either.”

She was still mulling over what the hell the 5th of November could be. It was no holiday, it was a regular Wednesday. She wasn’t aware of anything particular happening that day, either.

“Now you’re brooding.”

McKinley approached them, informing Jack that he and Harrow had talked to the rest of the list, and that everyone appeared – more or less – clear. And, besides Hayes, none of them seemed to have any idea of what happened in L.A. and with Whitney Frost. Apparently, neither Hugh Jones, nor Hayes had any interest in sharing these details with their colleagues.

“A’right”, Jack declared, “then let’s leave.” He had a pretty decent idea of which men’s companies should be monitored by SSR agents in the future – Heath definitely among them.

In the car, Y/N finally opened her mouth to share her finding.

“I got this”, she started, awkwardly getting the note out of her bra.

“You don’t got a bag for this?”, Jack noted, a bit embarrassed by the manoeuvre.

“A bag can be stolen, a bra is far less likely to end up in the hands of men I don’t invite to hold it”, she snapped, “And besides, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before and I can’t see anyone else looking.”

He cleared his throat: “And what’s it say?”

“That’s the thing, I have no idea. It says ‘remember, remember the 5th of November’, which sounds like the start to some stupid children’s song”, she shrugged.

“Where’d you find it?” He frowned, asking himself why someone would walk around with a line from a song to a formal event, only to accidentally drop it.

“I didn’t find it, per se”, she said, stretching out her words, “I was given it.”

“What?”, Jack shot her a confused look, “By whom?”

“By my informant?”, she said high-pitched, “inside the Mafia?”

“And you didn’t think that this was a detail worth sharing??”, he shot back, visibly annoyed, “that we have insiders in there?”

“It didn’t compromise anything, did it?”, she retorted, “Besides, I wanted to minimise the risk of it getting out. If anyone knows, he’s dead and we lose on of our most crucial informants.” She ignored his frustration and continued: “But, nonetheless, I have no idea what he meant by that. Nothing is scheduled to happen on November 5th, and it’s just a normal Wednesday, in my opinion.”

Jack sighed, choosing not to give her a lecture today about the fact that she didn’t get to decide what information was worth sharing with her chief and instead briefed her about his own findings: “One thing all of them have in common is that they hate the Reds, but they also hate our own politics.”

“I still have no idea how that ties in with the mob”, Y/N announced, “unless they have some sort of common goal. Whatever that is, though, I have no idea.”

Entering her apartment, Y/N was about to get off her shoes when Jack interrupted her with a lopsided grin: “If we’re already dressed for the occasion, it would be a shame if we didn’t at least have one dance.”

She owned a phonograph, but she hardly used it, so she had no idea what music would start when Jack turned the thing on. It was a slow song, and it was classical music. When she saw his hand reaching out to her, she accepted with a smile. He was still a fantastic lead, and she enjoyed the nearness.

“And for the record”, he said before spinning her, “I don’t think you look like a girl playing dress-up. You look gorgeous, Y/N.”

........

Y/N had checked everything, from local fairs to national conventions, nothing happened on the 5th of November, at least nothing that was publicly planned. Frustrated, she placed down her notes as the phone rang.

“Y/N L/N, SSR, with whom-“

“am I speaking, hi Y/N!”, Peggy ended her never-changing greeting with a laugh, “You sound miserable, if I’m allowed to say so. What’s the matter?”

“Nothing, and that is exactly my problem”, Y/N muttered, “We’re chasing down a lead with the Arena Club and our lead is very unhelpful.”

“Is the subject not speaking?”

“No, that’s not the problem”, Y/N rubbed the bridge of her nose, easing the headache that she had given herself by squinting all day, “It’s a note that doesn’t make sense. And it’s not even encoded, if you can believe it!”

“Is it a foreign language?”

“No, it’s in English.”

“What does it say then?”, she inquired curiously.

“Remember, remember, the 5th of November.”

Y/N was taken aback by the silence that greeted her. “Peggy, you still there?”

“Y/N”, she heard Peggy’s voice again, “it didn’t happen to be a political fair, did it?”

“Yeah”, she frowned, “Why’d you guess that?”

“Because”, Carter cleared her throat, “that’s a poem. Remember, remember the Fifth of November, the Gunpowder Treason and Plot, I know of no reason why the Gunpowder Treason should ever be forgot. Guy Fawkes, Guy Fawkes, t'was his intent, to blow up the King and Parli'ment.”

Now, it was Y/N whose voice failed.

“Y/N-“

“Peggy, thank God you’re English”, Y/N announced, “I think I know what the plan is. I’ll call you back!”

She jumped up, walked straight into Jack’s office, throwing open the door without knocking.

“Whoa, ever heard of knocking?!”

“You said they hate our politics”, she reminded him, “correct?”

He frowned at her, visibly confused: “Yeah?”

“But they don’t hate the entire political system, they just hate the president”, Y/N expanded, obviously waiting for him to catch on, but unlike her, he didn’t just talk to Carter.

“What are you on about, Y/N?”

“The 5th of November, you genius!”, she exclaimed, “It’s not about the date, it’s about the action! Taking down the head of state!”

A/N: As always, I hope you enjoyed this chapter - if you did, I highly appreciate every comment, reblog, any sort of feedback, or simply a heart. It all helps! Also, I promise this is going somewhere. I have a plan for overarching enemy and everything, even if it might sound all a bit random still! And you’ll get some more about Y/N’s and Jack’s time before the war, too, so there’s that to look forward to!

Tag List

@pretty-girl-40

@abysshaven

@deathofmissjackson

@okkulta

@briskywalker

@elleclairez

@ultrarebelheart

@2kitkat4

@shygamergirl01

@21andjusttryingtogetby

@ashwilliamscoveredinblood

#jack thompson x reader #jack thompson #jack thompson imagine #agent jack thompson #agent jack thompson x reader #agent thompson #agent carter #marvel's agent carter #mcu #marvel #marvel cinematic universe

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amewinterswriting · 1 year

Text

15 Mutuals, 15 (+ bonus) Questions

Tagged by @space-cadead. I'm woefully out of the loop with how active most of my mutuals are, so if you see this, it's an open invitation to participate yourself!

Questions after read more for the sake of everyone's dashboard:

1. Are you named after anyone?

Both my given and middle name are for my maternal great-grandmother and great-great-grandmother. However, the name I find more interesting is what I wasn't named. See, my grandad loved the name Vincent. Even had it tattooed on him, and would have named his first-born son Vincent. Except he had two daughters. So he made my mum promise that if she had a son, she would name him Vincent...and I didn't come with a bio penis so I got a more feminine name instead. Given that I'm determined the family line dies with me, I don't think my grandad will be getting his 'descendant called Vincent' wish fulfilled, unless he doesn't mind a fictional Vincent in a future writing project? A book is kinda like a baby, right?

2. When was the last time you cried?

Probably December? Working retail at Christmas is really rough anywhere, but at a toy shop, it's very high pressure.

3. Do you have kids?

One very beloved tuxedo cat who is very happy to be an only child with no human siblings.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

No, absolutely never. Not one single time in my whole life have I ever been sarcastic and sassy and I certainly don't have an entire t-shirt that claims that sarcasm is my second language. /s

5. What’s the first thing you notice about people?

Any major difference that they have that's 'unusual' compared to most people. I'm very faceblind so I tend to use things like hairstyle, clothing choices or voice to reliably recognise people...though most people can and will change those things on a regular basis. Personally, I love more outlandish styles and hair colours - it makes life much easier for me!

6. What’s your eye color?

Green/brown

7. Scary movies or happy endings?

Happy endings, but make them work for it.

8. Any special talents?

I don't really feel like I have a particular talent for anything. I have plenty of creative hobbies, but I feel like anything I can make is the result of lots of mistakes and practice and research. But I'm willing to try my hand at lots of things: resin craft, pixel art, photography, lampwork (glass), papercraft, sound mixing, video editing...I'm very much the jack of all trades. The difficulty is staying with something long enough to finish a larger project.

9. Where were you born?

Rural Wales. If you point out any castles, standing stones or ruined abbeys within a hundred miles or so, I've probably been there!

10. What are your hobbies?

Naturally writing, and all the aforementioned creative hobbies, but also gaming. Big fan of interesting narratives and puzzle-based games.

11. Have you any pets?

My problem child, Blackadder the cat, who is both very smart and very silly, so I think he lives up to his name well.

12. What sports do you play/have played?

I am very much not a sportsperson. In school, we were forced to play hockey and netball, but that was more years ago than I really want to admit...

13. How tall are you?

Somewhere a little taller than 150cm but not by that much.

14. Favorite subject in school?

I had an amazing Sociology teacher who loved challenging our expectations and showing us new cultures as best he could in a very rural Welsh school. His passion was truly infectious and I sincerely hope he's having an amazing life, wherever he is now.

15. Dream job?

Independently published (and moderately to wildly successful) author who is somehow entirely anonymous outside of their body of work.

16. Do you prefer owls, capybaras, or flamingos?

There are so many different species of owls that I'm going to go owls. There are tiny little Burrowing owls, huge European owls, or the silent graceful Barn owls we're more likely to see in the wild near me.

17. What is your favorite soup?

Maybe not technically a soup, but I make a damn good chilli chicken ramen if I do say so myself!

18. What is your favorite…rock (idfk)?

Blue John is a very particular mineral found close to some of my family members and when it's cut and polished it's got a very beautiful blue/purple crystal structure. I've been down a lot of the different mines where it has been found, so I have a bit of an appreciation of the history and how the discovery and sale of it has influenced the local area for the better.

19. Choose a familiar: 1) very dumb, very loving disobedient dog. He loves you but will never listen to you ever 2) a raven that speaks but it only ever shrieks the name of various fast food restaurants 3) a toad that screams like a teenage boy instead of croaks

Raven. I can never decide on what to eat, and I feel like this would be a lot easier if someone just shouted the answer at me.

20. Which planet do you feel like would be kind of an asshole if you met them?

Jupiter. Why have you got so many moons, huh? Why do we only get the one? Ours is lonely, I think she needs a girlfriend. I think at least one of Jupiter's moons would be happier over here.

21. if you were a worm would you love me? this worm question courtesy of ✨ @/legiomiam✨

No, but only because I think I would be beyond the capacity for emotions more complex than 'this dirt is so moist and delicious, this is amazing'.

22. Least favorite type of clothing?

High heels. I never learnt to walk in them, and I care about my comfort too much to want to learn now!

23. You are now in a horror movie—so sorry. Chance of survival?

On the one hand, I'm an anxious mess who can't handle watching many horror movies. On the other hand, I do cope with IRL crises well at the time and then panic later. And I am handy with power tools. So I think I'll just manage to survive the worst, manage to hunker down with any other survivors and just when I think we're safe and I'm distracted, that's when the horrors will get me.

24. Would you rather: the ability to instantly grow a perfect mustache, or ability to talk to vegetables?

Moustache. Take my 'what is gender?' vibes to the next level. And I'm tired of shaving my pathetic little wispy one away. I don't mind the facial hair, I mind that it's patchy and inconsistent!

25. What do you think of whales?

They're just chilling out in the ocean in their family groups and singing long-distance conversations with each other and I think we could learn a lot from that.

#ame talks #ask game #tag game #open to anyone

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words-writ-in-starlight · 4 years

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where's the essay op

Okay so bayonets. I don't know why I ever pretend that I want to talk about anything but military history and battlefield medicine. I checked all my sources in the waiting room of a doctor's office so you're just going to have to trust me because they are Gone. I’m pretty sure this can all be found on a few Wiki dives, though.

First of all, to recap, let me clarify a common misconception. The triangular bayonet was NOT outlawed in the 1949 Geneva Convention, nor any future revisions—as it was originally a musket weapon, it was fading out of use by World War II and the subsequent Convention. However, you'll notice that I opted to use to word "violates" rather than "were banned by," which is a fine semantical hair to split and, I suppose, debatable. Most bayonets were not explicitly banned in the GC, in that there is not an article in the GC saying you can't use them. However there IS an article in the GC, adopted from the earlier 1899 Hague Regulations, stating that it is prohibited to "employ weapons...of a nature to cause superfluous injury or unnecessary suffering" (originally part of Article 23 of the HR, now Article 35 of the GC, expanded in 1977). Personally, as someone who knows a lot about how a lot of weapons impact the human body, I think that is a more expansive statement than most people would expect, and should be treated accordingly. Regrettably I do not work for the UN.

Point is, triangular blades specifically are known to cause wounds that are difficult to heal, highly prone to infection, and extremely likely to never fully recover, while also having a relatively low mortality rate. This is because the axes of a triangular wound, which is shaped sort of like a Y, make it very hard to stitch closed, and very easy for any "twisting" of the blade to create a large hole with ragged edges that's functionally impossible to stitch closed. As an added bonus, because of the way scar tissue forms, it's possible for one "line" of a triangular wound to pull open other parts of the puncture while the scar tissue forms and pulls on the skin. Even by standards in the 1700s, triangular bayonet wounds were phenomenally likely to infect and consistently difficult to repair, and modern medicine has made only limited improvements on that situation. As such, cases have been made that certain types of bayonet/triangular blades in general are therefore in violation of this article, despite not being explicitly banned.

(Side note: yes, the American military violates the GC on the regular. The American police violate the GC. I am excruciatingly aware. The GC is interesting reading generally, but especially if you're an American and you ever feel like being appalled for a few hours.)

Anyway, with that covered again, let's actually talk about the development of triangular bayonets, which might've been out of use by the time of the GC but DEFINITELY violated that article in a big way for a good two centuries prior and are also a fascinating insight into the fact that humanity, as a whole, is really determined to do things in the dumbest way possible.

The first thing you have to understand about bayonets is that they were originally invented as a way to integrate pikes with guns, not knives or even swords. When arquebuses and muskets were first invented, you were lucky to get a rate of fire around one round per minute, and you still had to protect your army while they were reloading their clunky black powder guns. Therefore, most infantries between like...the invention of the gun and the late 1600s were comprised of soldiers equipped with muskets, and also soldiers equipped with pikes (a type of spear). The idea of a bayonet was "what if we put a pike and a musket TOGETHER and then we could give everyone THAT and have way more guns in our army because we don't need pikemen anymore." Which makes sense when you think about it.

What makes less sense is that the initial effort at bayonets was something called a plug bayonet. You'll never fucking guess what these geniuses (first record is Chinese infantry around-abouts 1600, popular use of plug bayonets recorded in Europe around the 1630s) figured out for their first try at a bayonet. Here's a hint! There's not a lot of places on a gun where you can "plug in" a sword.

Obviously plug bayonets did not exactly catch on as a fantastic solution, because these guns were either a gun OR a short spear and neither was especially good at their jobs. A bunch of battles hinged on this problem. Which brings us to the end of the 1600s, when English forces in Scotland got absolutely obliterated by a bunch of Highlanders in 1689 because the English were so busy trying to fix their bayonets that the Highlanders literally just charged them, fired one volley, and cut them down with swords and axes. The English took that one very personally (which, you know what, fair, it was a humiliating defeat, especially since the Highlanders had been using that tactic very successfully for a while) and started developing better bayonets.

This is where we get to socket bayonets, AKA what you would probably recognize as a bayonet from a period TV series or a museum. Socket bayonets have a metal sleeve that gets attached around the barrel of a gun (in this case a musket), so that you can still theoretically use the damn gun while it's attached. There were problems with the development of socket bayonets (notably, it took a while to figure out how to keep them from falling off the gun during battle), but overall they worked much better and armies started getting rid of pikemen. This was also when bayonets were shortened to a little over a foot, which isn't really important but made them much easier to maneuver. Socket bayonets were the European order of the day by the early 1700s, and mostly came in three flavors: single edge (like a knife), double edge (like a sword), and spike (like a...spike). There were pros and cons to all of these (single edge wasn't great for stabbing, spike was ONLY good for stabbing, and double edge was kind of okay at stabbing and kind of okay at slashing), but most importantly, both single and double edged bayonets were fragile. The heads of polearms were shaped on patterns other than "sword on a stick" for a reason, and it's because "sword on a stick" is not very sturdy.

Triangular bayonets were the solution to this problem. Triangular bayonets are basically a single piece of metal creased long-ways, with both edges sharpened and the top fluted to form a third edge at the crease. This makes a much more resilient weapon than a flat blade, because a twisting motion doesn’t risk snapping the blade in the middle. It also means that now you have three edges, and human nature is to figure “more knife better.”

And don’t get me wrong, as a weapon of war, the triangular bayonet was a great one. It was introduced in the 1710s and then got used regularly to maim and terrify through the start of the 1900s. In fact, the triangular bayonet worked so well that it only began to get phased out of use when the style of war itself started to change dramatically during the World Wars. When warfare was focused on pitched battle (your old school “two armies enter, one army leaves” kind of warfare), the emphasis of a bayonet was on extending the reach of a gun. A bayonet lets a soldier have a weapon for closer range combat, where a gun—especially a long gun like a musket—is not as effective. So when you had two armies on the field and a bayonet was first and foremost a way to keep the enemy at least gun-length away, longer bayonets were better.

But World War I was the advent of trench warfare, which was a terrible idea and also meant that a long weapon, like a gun with an extra foot and a half of sword on top, was much, MUCH harder to work with. Either fighting took place in no man’s land, where you probably weren’t going to get close enough to use a bayonet anyway, or in a trench, where a weapon as long as you were tall was just impossible to work with.

(If you know anything about WWI, you’re probably asking me about bayonet charges right now, specifically the concept of “going over the top.” Contrary to every media representation of WWI ever, “going over the top” of a trench faded out of use pretty quickly. It was a type of bayonet charge where the soldiers in ONE trench fixed their bayonets and tried to charge no man’s land in an effort to reach the OTHER trench, but it was basically never effective because no man’s land was often heavily trapped and strafed with gunfire and mortar shells. Also, it was the kind of battle tactic that military history books talk about with phrases like “total annihilation of whole attacking battalions,” so that’s the kind of mortality rate we’re talking about here. The Battle of the Somme featured a good number of bayonet charges by the British, for context, so people learned and started using other tactics.)

So, since bayonets were only useful in trenches, suddenly everyone was scrambling to shorten bayonets and guns so that their soldiers could get ANYTHING DONE. And THEN soldiers started admitting that they were literally taking their bayonets off their guns and using them as knives instead, because for trench fighting that was way more useful, and so everyone just decided fuck it, let’s just make bayonet-knives, which is why WWI weapons with bayonets usually look, very literally, like someone duct taped a short knife to the front of a gun. This was the start of the decline of the triangular bayonet, a full two hundred years after it hit the battlefield, which is a frankly spectacular run for any weapon since the invention of the gun. Triangular bayonets held on, here and there, through part of WWII, but they were almost entirely gone by the time of the Geneva Convention being ratified in 1949. However, spike or knife bayonets are still issued to many armies as a weapon of last resort to this day, although they aren’t often used in actual attacks. Now we have bigger, worse weapons for actual attacks.

TL;DR, the development of bayonets went like this:

“What if we put a pike ON a gun? …oh wait, you still want to use the gun? Sucks to be you, I guess.”

“What if we put a sword on the gun instead? Then we could put it somewhere where we can still use the gun! Good luck keeping it on there, though.”

“What if we actually made something designed to get put on a gun and stab people effectively? Like, what if we designed something with that purpose in mind? Perhaps?” SMASH CUT TWO CENTURIES

“Well if you’re just gonna take your bayonet off and stab someone with it anyway, can we just go back to giving you knives, then?”

And now you’re caught up on all the dubiously successful ways we’ve tried to mutilate people with a knife-gun.

#military history #medical history #sort of...?#bayonets #honestly i have no idea what this would be classified as. i just had a really good time reading about bayonets in a waiting room.#Y'ALL WANTED TO KNOW SO HERE IS MY ESSAY #IT IS VERY LONG YOU BROUGHT THIS ON YOURSELVES I'M NOT SORRY #incidentally i HATE the fact that plug bayonets were a thing. what a terrible solution to a problem. what the hell.#'we went to all this trouble to make a gun that won't blow us up (much) so now we're gonna put a knife in the end'#i would love to talk to the guy who came up with that and ask politely what the hell decided them on this #as opposed to SAY FOR EXAMPLE A SOCKET BAYONET #WHICH IS NOT THAT MUCH MORE ADVANCED A CONCEPT #it does bear mentioning that bayonets weren't often major killers in war!#...because you were much more likely to be maimed and/or die later of infection than die outright on the field from a bayonet wound #so take from that what you will #a queue we will keep and our honor someday avenge #anonymous #asked and answered

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teddy06writes · 3 years

Text

Gonna Fix It

requested by this anon: “hi!! could you maybe do something angsty and fluffy with Fundy (or anyone really) where the reader is a trans guy? he/him”

Fundy x transmale!reader

trigger warnings: transphobes, homophobes, some swearing (I used the words tranny and fag) {I am both gay and technically trans please don’t come for me}

premise: When your dead name is leaked, along with photos of you pre transition the entire internet is quick to judge hypercritically, but your boyfriend is quick to take care of it

(y/n/n)- your nickname

(f/l/y/n)- first letter of your name

(y/d/n)- your deadname

“blep” talking

‘blep’ texting/messaging

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

“(y/n/n)!”

“Yes Tommy?” You asked.

“How’d you feel about selling drugs?”

You snorted, glancing up at your face cam and the messages in chat before turning your character to face Tommy’s, laughing, “What?”

“Do you want to sell drugs with me and Wilbur?” He repeated.

You blinked, moving your character to look at the van and then back at him, “Tommy, I would love to sell drugs out of a van with you.”

“Yes! We have secured another one lets go! Pogchamp!”

You chuckled as Wilbur joined vc, following Tommy’s character over to the van as he announced, “Gentleman! We have a problem, we need to find a better cover for our operations.”

You looked around the inside of the van, filled with brewing stands and furnaces, “A hot dog van.”

“Pfff- a hot dog van?” Tommy laughed.

“It would be a decent cover.” Wilbur admitted, “We should do it.”

Almost reluctantly Tommy nodded, and Wilbur moved on, “Next on the order of business, we need new recruits beside just (y/n).”

You grinned, “I know just who to ask!”

You started to leave vc when Tommy warned, “No Americans and no women.”

“You got it.”

You left vc, talking to your twitch chat as you messed around in discord, “Weird lot, them boys. Anyway- apparently I’m a drug dealer in Minecraft now! And I’m gonna recruit someone else!”

After a few messages through discord your boyfriend called you, “Hello?”

Upon hearing Floris’ voice chat started spamming about you being a simp.

“Yeah so Tommy and Wilbur kinda roped me into selling drugs on the smp and they told me to get more people, so I’m calling you.” You explained.

“Angel why didn’t you just come ask me? Was the call necessary?”

You rolled your eyes, “Shut up chat I’m not blushing! It was easier than getting up. Are you in or not?”

“Yeah sure.”

Child: ‘(y/n) big man’

Child: ‘big (f/l/y/n)’

(y/n): ‘what do you want Tommy’

Child: ‘get on the server we’re making plans for our country’

You sighed, quickly moving to boot up Minecraft, starting stream along with it and quickly giving an intro before logging on to the smp and joining vc.

“Ayyy! Big man!” Tommy yelled.

“Tommy!” You responded, though significantly less enthusiastically.

“(y/n) come to the hto dog van we’re making important decisions.” Wilbur said.

“Okay.” You headed down the prime path toward the van, listening to the others chatter.

“Okay so we need a name for our country,” Wilbur said as you arrived, “Something that fits. I am open to suggestions.”

“Pog something.” Tommy offered.

“ehhhhh.”

“Pogtopia!” He exclaimed.

You punched his character, “That’s so stupid.”

“Well- hmm, we’re all men here soooooooo Manburg!” WIlbur mused.

“It needs to be more European.” Eret said, tossing you some of the block to start helping with the walls.

“L’manburg.” You offered.

Wilbur and Tommy burst out laughing, “Perfect!”

“No Americans and no women! Just the way I like it!” Tommy yelled.

Everyone began to laugh at that, and you grinned, entirely unaware of the chaos beginning to unfold all over twitter, and even in your twitch chat.

~~ Later that night you ended up flopped across the couch, Floris sending you a text from his office, ‘Don’t forget to take off the tibby prison angel’ ‘I’ll be done with this soon and we can cuddle’

You chuckled, dragging yourself up off the couch and shuffling off to the bathroom to change out of your binder, and pull on a different hoodie, a bigger one that you had stolen from Floris.

By the time you were done and had come back out into the living room Floris had also emerged from his office, and was staring in horror at his phone.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

“You haven’t been on Twitter lately have you?”

Immediately you were going for your phone, taking it off silence to be bombarded by notifications, “uhhhh.”

Floris bit his lip, “I think you should read it for yourself.”

Quietly you opened twitter, checking first the hashtag that appeared at the top of your mentions ‘#y/nisalie’

Your breath hitched as you opened the hashtag, immediately seeing the original tweet, ‘#y/nisalie y/n has been lying to all of us a thread: apparently this tranny didn’t have the guts to put out that “he” was lying’

You scrolled through the tweets, ‘Man, I can’t believe (y/d/n) thought (y/n) was a good fake name’, ‘well at least we know Fundy isn’t actually a fag’ and then worst of all, ‘Guys I found what (y/d/n) actually looks like!’ followed by a picture of you, pre transition.

The world felt like it was caving in as you slowly sank down against the wall, tears starting to flow, “How did this happen?”

Floris was quick to sit down next to your, pulling you into his arms, “I dunno angel.”

You turned, sobbing into his shoulder, “Why are they like this? Wha- what am I gonna do?”

“I’m gonna fix this,” He murmured, “I promise.”

You curled further into his embrace, tears soaking his shirt as he rubbed circles into your back.

“It’s gonna be okay angel, it’s gonna be okay.”

~~ You avoided the internet at all costs for the next few days, not streaming, not being active on twitter or any other socials, hardly ever leaving Floris’ embrace for more than a few minutes as more and more notifications filled your phone.

It took a lot of coaxing from your boyfriend to check your twitter notifications after two days, and when you did you were delighted to see dozens of positive messages from real fans, and messages addressing the situation from all of your friends.

Eret: ‘dudes (y/n) is litterally trans, is you can’t deal with that then get out of this community; it’s seriously not okay to disrespect someone like that.’

Wilbur: ‘guys remember when I said trans rights and trans rights until I’m dead? Well that applies to (y/n) as well so piss off and stop bothering them’

Tommy: ‘listen up, serious tweet for once: you guys really need to learn how to recover someone and there pronouns, stop calling big man (y/n) by his dead name or get off the platform’

Along with countless others, and of course one from Floris as well, who had made a thread as soon as he saw what was going on:

‘Guys, listen. My boyfriend is the most wonderful human being in all the world. Whoever leaked his dead name or went looking for pictures of him before his transition is honestly a monster and I hope you realize the weight of your actions. Apparently we as a community have a few things to go over,

1: respect creators boundaries, if (y/n) didn’t want to tell you he wasn’t born male it’s not your business, 2: respect people’s pronouns, if someone tells you to use he/him they probably know if there right or not, 3: you can’t fucking invalidate someone like that, and put them on display as a fucking hashtag.

4: if anyone ever tries to talk about my boyfriend like this, (using the wrong pronouns, misgendering, using his dead name or in any other way invalidateing him) I will personally make sure you are never allowed on social media again’

You looked up from your phone, “Y- you got them to stop?”

Floris smiled, “I told you I was gonna fix it.”

#mcyt x reader #mcyt imagines #fundy x reader #teddy06 writes

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karahalloway · 2 years

Note

I've been kinda slow in sending this ask but I wanted to respond to your 'Writer ask - personal writing hacks edition' I wanna know #2, 4, 5, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16. please. Lol, I know that's a lot, but your ask had a lot of questions too, so consider it payback 😁😈🤣

Thanks for the ask @petiteboheme! And honestly, don’t worry - in comparison to the monster list of OTP asks I’ve gotten previously from @nestledonthaveone and @aussiegurl1234, this was a piece of cake! 😇

2. How do you name your characters?

Off the cuff? 🤣

I kinda just try to find a name that I like and feel suits the character. For example, for Harper’s family, I kind of had an idea of each character’s personality as I started writing them, so I then just went through a mental list of American names, and distributed based on what felt right (for Tyler, I played around with Tyler vs. Taylor, and ended up settling on the former).

For Harper, I mentioned somewhere previously (I think it may have been to you, actually!) that when I started playing TRR, I was setting up my MC and needed to choose the name (as the default canon name didn’t feel right). So, I went with Harper (which kind of indirectly came from the MC’s name in a very old Neverwinter Nights 2 rewrite that I read years ago on FanFiction.net (I was going to post a link, because it’s very good, but sadly, the author has deleted her account... 😔) because (i) I liked the name ever since I read that fic, and (ii) thought it would suit my MC. Then for her surname, I went with Gale because honestly, I just liked how the combination of Harper + Gale sounded (then I think a couple of months later, when I started writing (Un)Common Attraction, I actually looked into whether Gale was a real surname, or not, and turned out it was - French/British origin, if you want to know!)

Finally, for Christian, as I mention in the Author’s Note for UA, I didn’t think that the default canon name of Liam (which is very Anglo-Saxon / Irish) was appropriate for the Prince of Mediterranean country, so I went through a list of European baby names (which, if you are stumped for a name, is probably the fastest and easiest way to trawl through lots of name options very quickly - just find a baby names website!)

4. What do you do with ideas you currently don't have time to write?

I keep them in my head 😅

Probably not the safest place to store them, I admit, but until I actually have time to write them down, I don’t really have anywhere else I can put them (I don’t really do outlines).

5. What do you do with scrapped stories?

I have a very neglected folder on my laptop called ‘Current Projects’ where many-a commenced, but never completed story is still languishing after oh-so many years!

TRR is taking up all my time and brain capacity at the moment, so... 😅 For TRR specifically I have a document titled ‘Unsure’ where I dump stuff that I’ve written, then cut, in case I ever want to reuse somewhere else in the future.

12. Any suggestions for making editing easier and/or more fun?

So, I have kind of a weird process...

I will write something - usually on my laptop - and then I will upload it onto Wattpad as a draft chapter for whatever fic that I am working on. This allows me to do two things: (1) edit/write on the go (I have the Wattpad app on my phone, so if I get a random brainwave, or a spare minute when I’m feeling creative, I can just pull up the app and tap down the idea); and (2) edit.

For whatever reason, I cannot edit / readback stuff in a Word document - I miss typo’s and ‘see’ what I meant to say, instead of what the text actually says. But, putting the text into a different medium (i.e. Wattpad on my phone) allows me to ‘disassociate’ from the text and read it back as a reader, instead of as a writer. Also, when reviewing/editing, I deliberately read as if I was reading the text for the first time (i.e. not anticipating what comes next, even though I wrote it), so I can get a good feel of how the text flows, how the characters sound, have I included all the important info that helps build the scene?

13. If you research for your stories, how do you go about it?

As you probably know, I am a bit of a geek when it comes to realism and accuracy! That said, I don’t ‘research’ my stories - I am 110% a panster (meaning I don’t plan beyond a very general mental outline for each chapter), so I go where the charachters take me.

But, if something comes up in a chapter that I don’t have personal experience / knowledge of (usually to do with cars, guns, security, locations and different languages), I will hop onto Google and do some research on that specific thing, or I will ask my husband (he is quite the walking-talking encyclopedia for cars, guns, self-defence, tactical shit, and the like).

14. Summarize in 3 sentences or less what is important for you when it comes to opening scenes.

Omg... these next three questions are actually making me think... 🤣 Okay, here we go...

For opening scenes, this is not something that I used to pay a lot of attention to, but the more I write, the more I am trying to start chapters with some kind of zingy, attention-grabbing opening. So, I guess it would be a snappy one-liner of some sort to set the tone, and draw the reader into the story (e.g., I start off Drive with an internal thought of disbelief, I start off Burnt and Extraction with Drake swearing, I start off Crazy with some song lyrics, and the more recent Harper POV chapters of Intentions (Chapter 7, onwards) by jumping into the middle of a conversation).

15. Summarize in 3 sentences or less what is important for you when it comes to climax scenes.

Tension...!!! 😆

If we’re at a climax - whether it be an argument, a chase-scene, a private realisation, or a sex scene - we need to feel like we’ve had a crazy climb up the proverbial mountain to get this stage, so I want the reader’s heart to be pounding, their breath feeling short, and their eyes wide with anticipation.

I have a few tricks on how to achieve this:

1. Emotional investment - a climax is only going to feel climactic to a reader if they feel invested in the story (what’s happened up until now, and what is about to happen). Because, if they don’t care, then you can write whatever you want, and they’ll just be like ‘meh...’ So, laying strong foundations for your charachters and the story in general is important. I personally find this easier to do in first-person POV (because you are literally seeing events unfold through your MC’s eyes, get to glimpse their private thoughts as situations play out).

2. Snappy writing - I’ve been teaching some other people how to do this, but basically, one way to build tension is to use short, snappy sentences and paragraphs. If you’ve written something, that doesn’t feel ‘tense’ enough, you can up the ante simply by cutting a sentence into 2-3 parts by replacing commas with full stops.

But, here are some other tricks that I use all the time:

Short, abrupt sentences/paragraphs (extract from Intentions, Bonus Chapter - Drive - pretty much the entirety of this chapter is an exercise in this method of building tension, but here is quite a solid example:)

"Harper!"

Silence.

Fuck.

She'd hung up on me.

Even though I knew it was probably pointless, I hit the redial button.

After an agonising few seconds, I get nothing but dial tone.

Great...

She'd turned off her phone.

I let out a low growl. This girl was going to be the death of me.

Cutting off conversations mid-flow - this messes with the reader’s expectation because mentally they’re like ‘Hey! What happened! Where’s the rest of it?’ (Extract from Intentions, Chapter 5 - Sparks Fly)

"I followed that bullshit order to the letter," replies Drake with equal dispassion.

"You brought her back! You did the exact opposite of wh—"

"You should never have sent her away in the first place!"

"Guys!" I plead desperately. "Can we please just—?"

"I did what I had to for her!" shouts Christian. "If you'd been thinking with your head instead of your dick, you would've real—"

"At least I was thinking!" retorts Drake. "Instead of reacting like a fuckin' image-conscious moron! You cared more about how—"

"Someone threatened her!"

Italicising important words (Extract from Intentions, Bonus Chapter - Extraction)

"Un-fuckin'-believable..." I grit, turning away from the picturesque view of downtown Manhattan before I hurled my phone off the side of the building with Chris still on the line.

"I didn't want you to add to your plate while you were on the other side of the globe. And the press isn't technically part of your remit, so—"

"That was not your call to make," I hit back irately, double-timing it up and down the terrace in an attempt to work off my aggravation.

This was the second fucking time Chris had made an executive decision concerning Gale without giving me so much as a last minute heads up — the person who he'd assigned to look out for her.

Interrupting thoughts with elipses to continue them after a break (Extract from UA, Bonus Chapter - Burnt)

But I'd lost control. I'd crossed the line.

In more ways than one...

I sling the remainder of the whiskey back.

...and now I was royally fucked.

Interspacing action with thoughts/comments that interrupt the flow of what you’ve been writing about up until now - Drake does this quite naturally when I’m writing him; he is leading you down one thought and then suddenly he interrupts it with a reality check, and you’ve like ‘Oh! That wasn’t the important thing, was it?’ and he’s like ‘Nope!’ 😈

This was an in-person face-to-face. A critical milestone in most relationships — sometimes even a make-or-break one.

Because this was when your girlfriend's parents decided whether or not you were good enough for their daughter.

And even if that wasn't enough tacit pressure to deal with under normal circumstances, I was in the doubly unenviable position of not only doing something like this for the very first time — given that I'd never been in a relationship that had progressed to this stage before — but I was also going to be doing it solo.

Not that that was my biggest worry.

☝️ This last sentence being the interruption of the flow, because you’re like ‘Okay, we’re nervous about meeting Harper’s family’ and then suddenly he’s like ‘Actually...’ and you as the reader are like ‘!!! There’s something more?!’ 😦 and you’re dying to find out!

Not revealing who the speaker is until the last possible moment - keeps the reader guessing (Extract from Intentions, Chapter 9 - Less Than Noble Intentions)

I yank the blade from its holster, raising it into the air as I spin around with a growl.

My assailant's eyes widen in surprise.

But just as I'm about to bring the weapon down into the side of their neck, I feel my wrist connect with something hard and, in the next second, I find myself wrenched around, my hand behind my back and the tip of the blade pressing into my spine.

"Not bad..."

The sound of the familiar voice in my ear knocks the air out of my chest.

"...but aim for the gut next time."

I feel myself pale. It can't be...!

"It's harder to defend and you cause more damage."

The knife falls out of my hand to clatter onto the marble. "Drake!"

And... last, but not least... Swearing! 🤗 Swearing is always great at creating tension - especially when you (as the reader) are not expecting it, because not a huge amount of writers use it, so when you see it, it always hits you in the face! (Extract from Intentions, Chapter 10 - A Frosty Reception)

"I'm not suggesting anything. Because I have no proof." I take a meaningful step towards her as I drop my voice. "But if I find out that you were involved in anything in any way — especially in what happened at Applewood... Well, let's just say I wouldn't want to be you."

Madeline's spluttering like a beached mackerel. "Are you threatening me?"

"Oh, it's no threat," I assure her. "It's a warning. I'm back at court to clear my name. So, I have no time for, and even less interest in power games or stupid pissing contests. And if you're not helping me get to the bottom of this mess, then stay the fuck out of my way."

Shoving past her, I stomp out of the bathroom, hands shaking.

Self-entitled bitch...

3. Climactic climax - Okay, I know that this sounds strange, but if you’re doing a climax, it actually needs to be climactic. You can’t build up to something and then just have it fizzle out. A good example of a climactic climax is the end of the fight scene in Chapter 11 - Twilight Zone of Intentions because all this emotional tension has been building up inside Harper, and suddenly she snaps and starts fighting back, and then she realises that it was Drake that she was about to knife 😬... and everyone shit their pants! 🤣

Okay, I guess that was more than 3 sentences, but nevermind...😅 Hopefully this helps!

16. Share one piece of advise for how you create tension in your stories.

I kinda covered this above, but generally speaking, readers expect text to have a flow. If you interrupt that expectation, that creates tension/anticipation. How you do it is up to you, but the best way to create tension is to go against the grain of what the reader is expecting to happen next 👍

#kara halloway #behind the scenes #writing hacks #this is me

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flawedamythyst · 2 years

Text

On The Tenth Day of Christmas

Thanks to @kangofu-cb for giving me an idea of how to incorporate lords a leaping, I’m sorry I took your cute trip to the ballet and made it about European colonialism.

There are probably 50 things wrong with this, historically speaking, not least of which is that Ethiopia was known as Abyssinia then, but I was trying to simplify things so I didn’t have to put in a huge amount of exposition. instead I just have to put in an apology A/N at the start. Historical fic, the gift that keeps giving.

1896

Joe was never really sure if he liked ballet. It always seemed like a very sanitised version of dancing, and just sitting back and watching without being able to join in, or at the very least have a little jig to the music, felt wrong somehow.

That said, it was incredible to watch the beauty and grace that the dancers could move with, and to see a story unfurl through just the movements of their bodies.

Besides, it was dark in the auditorium and Nicky had reached over to take his hand only a few minutes into the first scene. As long as Joe had Nicky beside him, he could happily sit through anything.

The scene they were currently watching featured four princes and an ensemble of their retinues dancing for the princess. Joe eyed the tight fit of the dancer’s outfits over their bums and wondered if they would come into fashion for men off-stage as well, and if he could persuade Nicky into a pair of them.

“That’s him,” said Nicky quietly in his ear and Joe drew his attention away to follow Nicky’s nod up at one of the boxes. A group of men were sat in it but Joe recognised the one he was looking for immediately from the photos Andy had found for them. Joe had to admit that for all he liked the classic cleanness of a sketch, photos made identifying people a lot easier.

“Do you think we can persuade him?” he asked, and got shushed by someone behind them. Nicky just shrugged back.

“We have to try,” he said, quieter than Joe had been.

It was a long ballet and although there were several intermissions, Joe wasn’t too surprised when he saw their target getting up midway through one of the acts to shuffle out of the box. He’d been knocking back champagne like water and almost certainly needed to pee.

“Now,” said Nicky, and they both got up, creeping out of the auditorium as quietly as possible, then moving fast to get up to the next level and the corridor that ran along behind the boxes.

Their target was still in the bathroom when they walked in, washing his hands and frowning at himself in the mirror. Joe carefully shut the door behind them and stood in front of it, letting Nicky go along and check that all the stalls were empty.

The target ignored them until he turned away to head for the door and Joe didn't move, just smiling at him and rather pointedly pulling the revolver out of his jacket pocket.

"What is the meaning of this?" asked Blanc, backing up a few steps and glancing around for a way out.

There wasn't one.

"You don't need to worry," said Nicky, having made sure they were alone in the bathroom. "We just want to have a little talk with you. No one is going to get hurt."

Blanc clearly didn't believe a word of it. "Help!" he shouted. "Someone! Help!"

"These walls are very thick," said Joe, cheerfully. "They wanted to make sure no noise got through into the auditorium to ruin the show for other people."

"You don't want to ruin the show for anyone, do you, Alberto?" asked Nicky.

Blanc gave them both a terrified look, then took a deep breath and straightened up, and Joe could see him pulling the dignity of his office around him. He had been a diplomat for many years before joining the cabinet, and had almost certainly been in some tricky situations before.

"If I'm not back in my seat soon, someone will come looking."

"Don't worry, this won't take long," said Nicky. "We just wanted to talk to you about the invasion of Ethiopia."

Blanc blinked several times. "What?" That was clearly the last thing he'd been expecting.

"You are the minister for foreign affairs," said Nicky. "I'm sure you spend a great deal of time talking about Ethiopia, and the invasion."

"The unwarranted invasion," Joe added. “The invasion based on a cruel trick and a nasty lie.”

"The one that's going very badly for you at the moment," finished Nicky.

Blanc stared at them both, then his eyes fixed on Joe. "I won't tell you anything about our plans."

"You don't need to," said Joe. "You're already losing."

"We just wanted to make sure that when the cabinet reconvenes after the New Year break, you will tell the prime minister that you believe you should end the war now," said Nicky. "After all, you have been chased beyond Ethiopia's borders, and any further aggression will be met with similar humiliating defeats. Why would you want to keep going through that?"

"It does make your shiny new country look very silly," said Joe.

"I remember when the Italian states had some dignity," added Nicky, then he made a face, because no matter how many years it had been since he had lived in Genoa, he still held so many of the prejudices of his youth. "Well, some of them. Don't you want that again?"

"Or what?" asked Blanc, lifting his chin. "Or you will murder me?"

"No," said Joe, "we're not that kind of men. But we are going to go to Ethiopia as soon as we leave here, to join our companions. And let me tell you, none of your armed forces want to face us across a battlefield."

"Look," said Nicky, taking on the calm and reasonable tone that always ended with Joe agreeing with whatever he said. "I care about the Italian nation as much as you do. I want it to succeed into the future. Wasting resources on a war that you cannot win when you could be building something new at home, creating a better society for the whole country, is madness."

"Madness like fighting against your own nation?" asked Blanc, staring at Nicky. "What kind of Italian are you, to think you could talk me into surrender?"

"A hopeful one," said Nicky. "I don't want the Italian nation to be known for any part of this cruel colonialism, this desire to invade other countries for no better reason than that they are there, but I am afraid it is too late for that. This is the line I am drawing, though. Tell your prime minister that enough is enough. It's time to give in."

Blanco stared at him for a long time, then shook his head. "I don't think you understand. Even if I did say any of that to the prime minister, he would merely disregard me. He won't let us be defeated, not by Africans. We will press on and take Ethiopia, and give Italy the beginnings of an empire that we deserve. A second Roman empire."

Nicky sighed and looked at Joe. “I tried.”

“I know, habibi,” said Joe, tucking away his gun. “I can only hope that other, wiser heads will prevail.”

Nicky snorted. “When do they ever?”

He looked at Blanc one last time. “Think about what I have said. You will only face further defeat if you press on.”

Blanc didn’t bother responding and Joe and Nicky slipped out of the bathroom, running for the exit of La Scala before Blanc could summon his security to come after them.

“Damnit,” said Nicky as they burst out a side entrance and started to head back towards their hotel. “Andy is going to be so smug. She said this wouldn’t work.”

“That’s because Andy doesn’t have the faith in humanity that you do,” said Joe, and grabbed Nicky’s hand, pulling him to a stop so he could press a kiss to the back of it. “You tried. That is all we can do. And I love you for it, for wanting to end this without further bloodshed.”

“I don’t understand why so many European nations are always set on destroying and killing,” said Nicky tiredly. “Eight hundred years, and nothing has changed.”

He looked so sad and worn down that Joe couldn’t resist leaning in to kiss him properly, and damn the public streets they were on, It was quiet and dark, no one was going to pay attention.

“One day they will,” he said softly, hand cupped around Nicky’s cheek. “One day we will see humanity change for the better.”

“Even if we have to live as long as Andy to see it?” asked Nicky with a half-smile.

“Even if,” said Joe.

There was a shout from behind them and they both pulled apart. “And until then, we might need to do a bit of running,” said Joe, and they both took off, away from the security chasing after them.

#the old guard #Immortal husbands #nicky/joe #twelve days of togmas #and for anyone wondering #the Italians did try to invade for a bit longer #and got defeated #you can Google First Italo-Ethiopian war #if you want to go down the same rabbithole I went down tonight #I also spent an hour researching ballets #and then never mentioned that they're watching Sleeping Beauty #I have spent way too much time on Wikipedia today

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heloflor · 3 years

Text

Dance lesson

AO3 link

When Milo has to learn the waltz for a school dance, he ends up turning towards his honorary uncles for help.

Note : Another random thing that’s been on my mind for a while and that I finally decided to write down (I SWEAR I’m working on a longer fic). And it’s a fic with no angst and only fluff for once ! And it contains the ACTUAL main character of the show !

But yeah, joke aside, it’s just some random fluff that turned out three times longer than planned (as usual). Like always, Cavendish and Dakota are married. Also Dakota is a dad with Milo because I love this side of him.

There’s also one line that implies Dakota being too dependent of Cav and I really hope that it doesn’t count as romanticizing it because that’s not AT ALL my intent. I just wanted it to be pointed out but using Milo’s POV definitely makes it seem a bit clumsy, even if it’s just one random throwaway sentence. Which is why I’m talking about it now, to make you know that I’m aware that Dakota has issues and it’s not “cute”. And frankly, if I make more fics that take place after the show, I DEFINITELY would take the occasion to point out that Dakota is seeing a therapist and tries to work out how to let go of Cav and trust him to take care of himself.

On that same note, there’s also one sentence that mentions how Cavendish and Dakota hide their relationship out of fear due to homophobia.

There are also a few sentences that are mostly there to give some random headcanons about Cavendish and Dakota, because why not.

Oh yeah and one important thing : I’m no dance teacher, I don’t know how to dance, and finding info about the waltz without ending with a video is harder than I thought. So be aware that the description of the dance is VERY, VERY far from perfect.

I also don’t know shit about American proms and use it more as a set up than anything, so bear with me on that one. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Anyways. Enjoy !

Milo opened the front door of his house, trying not to feel anxious. The day of the annual spring prom was fast approaching. The theme chosen by the teachers for the main dance was slow and formal, to the surprise of most students. While Milo knew that not everyone was going to be perfect when it comes to dancing a waltz, at least among those who would choose to dance it, he really hoped to have a dance with Amanda, who he knew would strive for perfection. And with the almost certainty of Murphy’s Law making the evening more difficult, the least he could do for her was to learn to dance, to be able to keep up against all eventualities.

But learning the waltz was easier said than done. His parents didn’t remember much aside from what it was supposed to look like. As for Sara, she didn’t know how to dance it. Same for his friends. Besides, Melissa had decided she wouldn’t dance if it had to be something like a waltz, much to Zack’s chagrin. So asking them wouldn’t help. Finally, looking it up on the Internet was a no go, as he wanted to learn from a more authentic experience.

So all that was left were dance lessons. But those had a cost. And while Milo considered himself willing to do anything for Amanda, there still was the risk of paying for a lesson only to get the place destroyed over and over again and be banned before learning anything.

Milo didn’t know what to do. Amanda deserved the best, and he truly wanted to be the one to give it to her.

It was with these thoughts in mind that he noticed the three men in his backyard. Doctor D. was working on some machine, helped by Dakota, while Cavendish was standing nearby, chatting with them. While Milo had asked the professor and knew he couldn’t be of any help, he hadn’t told Dakota and Cavendish about it yet.

“Hey guys !”, Milo called as he went to join them.

“Hi Milo !” “Hello Murphy.”, the former time-travelers greeted.

“Found someone to teach you to dance yet ?”, Doofenshmirtz asked as a greeting.

“No. Not yet.”, the teen replied, his smile faltering.

“Something’s wrong ?”, Dakota immediately asked.

“No, no ! I’m fine !”, the short man raised an eyebrow. “Well, it’s not something bad or dangerous. It’s just…”, Milo looked away, suddenly feeling embarrassed to make them think that he had a big problem over something they probably saw as insignificant. “There’s the annual spring prom this Saturday, and I’d love to go with my friend Amanda. But I don’t know the dance and Amanda- she likes when everything that could go wrong doesn’t.”

“Trying to impress a girl for a dance, huh ?~”, Dakota asked in a teasing tone that made the teen blush. “Yeah I’ve been there.”, he shrugged.

“I suppose there isn’t a way we could help you ?”, Cavendish asked.

“Well, I need to find someone who can teach me to waltz. So if you know someone who can…”

Dakota looked at him for a beat, before his face brightened. “Well, I think you just found your teacher.”, the short man cheerfully said, turning towards his partner. The tall man looked between the two before closing his eyes and beaming with pride.

“I have to admit, I’m quite the dancer.”, he boasted.

“Cavendish can dance the waltz ?”, Doctor D. asked. Dakota nodded. “Somehow, I’m not even surprised.”, the scientist deadpanned, earning a glare from the British man.

“I’ll have you know I was taught a variety of dances at a young age.”, Cavendish defended. “I still master most of them.”

“Yeah. He can do anything that’s old-fashioned.”, his partner confirmed. He then leaned towards Milo. “But you don’t want to see him try a modern freestyle. Trust me.”, he jokingly half-whispered, making the teen laugh.

Cavendish cleared his throat in annoyance. He then turned his attention to Milo. “So, shall we start this lesson ?”

“Oh, you mean right now ?”

“Why of course ! Unless you don’t have the time, obviously.”

“no, no ! I have time. I just thought you guys were busy.”, Milo replied, glancing at Doctor D.’s machine.

“Oh that ?”, the scientist said. “Don’t worry about it. They already told me everything I needed to know to make my synthetic-time-juiceinator work.”, he assured. “Or at least I hope it’ll work. We’ll just have to see when I’m done building it !”

And with that, the trio scooted away, letting the scientist do his work.

“So,”, Cavendish started. “as you may already know, the waltz is a European dance with several variations, with a few danced amongst the highest courts. Given your time period, I assume what you need to learn is the slow waltz, the most universal one. There are two roles in this dance. One partner is the leader while the other is the follower. Since you’re a beginner, I would advise you to be the follower. N-”

“Um…Actually, I have to be the lead.”, Milo interrupted.

“Really ? Why is that, if you have no experience ?”, the taller man seemed genuinely confused.

“Well, the man is the one leading, while the woman follows his steps.”, he explained, wondering why he needed to explain something so basic.

The two former time-travelers shared a look. “They still do that gendered music thing in this time-period ?”, Dakota asked with a frown.

“…Yes ?”, Milo replied. The short man rolled his eyes. “I guess it changed in the future ?”

“It did.”, Cavendish confirmed, not without looking displeased himself. “The one who leads is the most experienced dancer, regardless of gender.”

“Yeah.”, Dakota continued. “That’s why Cav tends to lead. Between the two of us, he’s the one who knows what he’s doing.”, Cavendish raised an eyebrow at that.

“Anyways.”, the tall man coughed. “If you need to learn to lead, I can teach you to lead. Now…”, Cavendish walked to the center of the backyard. “the waltz has a certain amount of moves that you can do depending of your level and comfort. You said your party was Saturday, which means we have four days to teach you as much as possible. For today, we’re going to concentrate on the three most basic moves. The first one is the box step, the essence of the waltz itself. Dakota, if you please.”, Cavendish extended a hand towards the man.

“I-uh-what ?”

“I need a dance partner.”, the tall man deadpanned.

“I don’t know how to dance that, Cavendish ! I’m not a dancer ! I’m more of a singer. And a musician.”, he glanced at Milo at that last sentence, likely trying to amuse the teen.

“I’ve seen you dance the waltz before.”, Cavendish commented.

“Yeah, once. For our first dance. And I had to take lessons before the wedding. Annnd if memory serves, I tripped and fell only a few minutes in.”

“You tripped during your wedding ?”, Milo couldn’t help but ask.

“Yeah.”, the short man shrugged. “But it was fine.”, he let out a chuckle. “I didn’t break anything. Besides, I had been giddy all day. It was one of the best days of my life after all ! One stupid fall wasn’t going to ruin it ! I never did that dance again though.”

“But surely you remember some of it ?”, Cavendish interrupted. Despite his tone, Milo could see a small smile on the tall man’s face. It seemed like Dakota wasn’t the only one thinking about the day they had years ago.

“eeeesh…”, Dakota punctuated his noise with a shake of his wrist.

“Come now.”, his partner grumbled. “I’m sure you’ll get it back soon enough.”, Cavendish grabbed the shorter man’s hand and led his partner to where he had been standing moments ago. He then put one hand on Dakota’s waist and took Dakota’s other hand in his. Despite his grimace, the shorter man didn’t offer any resistance and also took position, a hand on Cavendish’s shoulder.

“Now. The box is a series of steps that the leader takes, mirrored by their partner. The leader starts by moving forwards, then slide, join your feet, change the foot you put your weight on, and repeat the opposite of what they just did, all in the tempo. For the tempo, you have to count from one to three on rhythm. Now watch.”

After his explanation, Cavendish started slowly making the movements he described, one after the other, taking for each one the time to let Dakota follow. Milo looked at their feet and how they moved. Looking up, he could see the taller man glancing at him from time to time, surely to make sure the teen was still listening. His partner, however, kept his eyes down, looking at what he was doing. At some point, Cavendish pointed out the weight he was putting on each foot and how to change it.

Once Milo confirmed that he understood the moves, Cavendish asked him to put on some music with his phone. Then, the former time-travelers started making the steps again, this time moving to the right rhythm, not without guidance from the taller man. Dakota was clumsy and awkward, never looking away from his feet. But with Cavendish’s assurance, and with the shorter man’s ability to just go with the flow, Dakota managed. This made Milo smile a little. Seemed like he wasn’t the only one getting taught how to waltz.

After explaining everything about the box step, the man introduced the progressive step, followed by the reverse step. Both were rather similar to the box and served to move around the ballroom. The tall man described them as essential to master the more complex moves. Just like for the first step, Cavendish went slow at first to let the teen see how it looked and get Dakota to learn as well, before then following the rhythm of the music.

“Milo,”, the tall man started as Milo cut the music after a few minutes of dancing. “are you sure you understood everything ?”

“I sure did !”, the teen assured.

“Good. Now, we’re going to show you how to combine all three steps together.”

“Say what now ?”, Dakota asked.

“Before we start,”, Cavendish continued, ignoring his partner’s interjection. “there’s one important thing for you to understand. As the leader of the dance, the choice of where and when to move is in your hands. Your partner is meant to simply follow and mirror your steps so, unless they tell you where other people are, you can’t rely on them to guide you. This is why being the leader is harder than the follower.”

“I understand.”, Milo replied.

“Good. Now the music, if you please.”, the tall man asked in a jokingly polite manner. Milo turned the music back on and watched as the two men started dancing again.

As the minutes passed and they kept dancing, their moves started to get smoother with Dakota growing in confidence. Eventually, Cavendish let go of Dakota’s hand for a beat in order to lift the shorter man’s chin, making the duo hold eye contact for the first time since they started. The two smiled as they continued. Milo soon realized that Cavendish had stopped glancing at him. The former time-travelers were completely enraptured with each-other as they moved in harmony to the slow pace of the music.

Milo felt a strange fascination in looking at the two men. Never had he seen Cavendish look so…peaceful, before. Of course, Milo had seen him be happy or excited in the past, more than once. But when he and Dakota were talking, Cavendish had a tendency to be annoyed at his partner. Here, there was none of that. Cavendish’s eyes were filled with love and affection for the shorter man, making Milo understand better why the taller man stayed in their relationship despite his numerous complains.

As for Dakota, it was the same. While Milo frequently saw the shorter man in a good mood, it had never been to this extent. Dakota looked at his partner with pure adoration, as if Cavendish was the most important thing in his entire life.

Milo knew that the two were married. While talking relationships with him, Dakota mentioned how long-lasting relationships weren’t all romantic and cotton-candy like how TV portrayed it but instead were mostly about arguing over the dumbest things. Cavendish’s reaction to the statement accidentally gave them away. Since then, the teen promised to keep the secret, if only to keep them safe from what some people might think.

But while Milo had known of their relationship, he never saw a display of their affections. The teen wondered if their first dance had been like this. For a moment, it made him envious. He hoped that, someday, he and Amanda could be like this. That they could look at each other this way, with the same love, the same passion. Maybe this would be possible this Saturday…At the thought, a new wave of determination coursed through the teen.

“w-woah !”, the moment ended as quickly as it started when Dakota suddenly tripped, letting go of his surprised partner in his fall.

thump

“…ouch”

“Dakota, are you alright ?”, Cavendish asked. The softness from before hadn’t left the man yet and his voice was full of worry. However, it was cut short as Dakota started laughing.

“And that,”, he said while looking at Milo. “is what happened fifteen years ago !”

“…It did.”, Cavendish admitted with a sigh before helping his partner up. Milo walked up to them.

“I’m getting too old for this.”, Dakota grumbled after cracking his back.

“You’re only 45.”, Cavendish commented.

“So ? It’s already pretty old for this time-period.”

“How old can people get in the future ?”, Milo found himself ask.

“A few people have managed to reach 150 years old.”, Cavendish explained. “This means that a few of the people born today might live long enough for us to have met them in our youths.”

“But even if they live that long, they look like a living corpse by the time they’re 120.”, Dakota interjected.

“Still. With the evolution of science and healthcare, people our generation might live even longer. After all, we already are able to stay in good shape until we get near our 100th anniversary.”

“Yeah. Just look at this guy !”, Dakota pointed at his partner. “In his fifties and still able to run ten miles without stopping !”

“I’m 52.”, Cavendish replied. “And you could be in better shape if you worked out with me.”

“Yeah yeah, I know.”, the shorter man rolled his eyes.

“Anyways. Milo ?”, the teen quickly turned his head as the attention went back to him. Cavendish offered him a hand. “Now that you saw how a waltz looks like, I believe it is time to practice ?”

“Uh ? Oh ! Right !”

“I’m not dancing again.”, Dakota warned.

“I don’t expect you to.”, his partner replied.

Dakota took a few steps back, letting the other two take position.

“Are you sure this is going to work ?”, Milo asked, immediately noticing the large height difference. “I mean, Amanda’s more my height…”

“Don’t worry, it’s going to be fine.”, Cavendish reassured. “Besides, this isn’t about how you hold your partner, it’s about the moves that you make. Now, let’s start with the box step. Do you remember it ?”

“I think so.”

“Alright. We don’t have to use the music for now, just take it slow.”

“Right.”

Milo started moving slowly, following the steps he remembered. Like Cavendish said, the height difference wasn’t that much of a problem, especially with the taller man knowing exactly what he was doing.

With the minutes going by, Milo got more into it, though not without a few corrections from Cavendish. The teen managed to move smoothly, making the correct steps. And when music was added, it didn’t take him long to manage to follow it. Being in the backyard also helped a lot as Murphy’s Law couldn’t turn as chaotic as it could be in town. The watering system turned on at some point, both his and Dakota’s phone ran out of batteries, and a few birds ended up causing some damage to the place, but it wasn’t anything that could prevent them from continuing. And after half an hour of practice, Milo was happy to see how good he got at the basics.

Seemed like he had a shot to dance with Amanda after all.

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

During the following days, Cavendish and Dakota would show up at the Murphys’ house to teach the teen more. Once the basics were mastered, Cavendish taught him some more moves like how to twirl or dip your partner. Due to Cavendish’s height, Milo had had to train those moves with Dakota. These lessons had been more fall-inducing than the others, especially on the shorter man’s end, but at least Milo had been able to learn. And while it took more time to get it right, training with Dakota was really fun. The man was as lost as the teen, so the practice always ended with a laugh. And when they were about to fall, the shorter man always made sure to fall first to prevent the teen from getting hurt. Of course, Cavendish had shown annoyance at the duo’s antics but, as long as Milo was learning, he couldn’t really say anything to them.

Milo had to admit, Cavendish was a far better teacher than he first thought. The man knew how to take it slow, making sure everything was understood before moving to the next level. At the same time, he could be sharp, reminding Milo that he didn’t have all the time in the world and couldn’t just spend the entire time messing around. The man knew how to be involved without suffocating the teen, how to get to the point while still giving enough details.

From the way the man would look during some of his explanations, Milo guessed that Cavendish was repeating things he had been told when he had had to learn to dance. This made the teen sometimes wonder about what kind of childhood Cavendish had, though he never dared asking the man directly. Besides, Cavendish wasn’t there to talk about his past. Milo did once ask Dakota about one of the ways Cavendish would speak. But, as it turned out, Dakota didn’t know anything about Cavendish prior to his time living in the States. When Dakota first asked him about it, the tall man simply told him that anything from his past didn’t matter anymore. The only thing Milo learned was something that Dakota jokingly told him : given his personality, there was no way Cavendish used to be a serial killer or a runaway prisoner or anything like that. So there was no point in wondering about Cavendish’s past, especially if it made the man uncomfortable.

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

By Saturday evening, Milo knew most of the different moves possible in a slow waltz, along with a few steps from what Cavendish called an “American waltz”, which sometimes had moments in which the two partners separated.

The teen was extremely grateful for what the former time-traveler did to help him, and made sure to thank him more than once. Cavendish had received the praise with a proud smile. It seemed that the knowledge of helping Milo was enough compensation for him. As for Dakota, he had spent the end of the last lesson teasing the teen, trying to find him ways to approach Amanda, making Milo way more embarrassed than he thought he would be. Though, the shorter man ended his teasing with an encouragement, ruffling Milo’s hair while telling him to just be himself and that, with his talent to turn every situation around, there was no way the evening would be ruined.

Milo had thanked the duo one last time before going to prepare himself for the evening.

And now here he was in his best clothes, in front of the school gym, along with Zack and Melissa. Since they had no intention to do the main dance, the duo had agreed to help Milo by dealing with Murphy’s Law themselves. Zack had even brought his own backpack for the occasion.

“Here we are.”, Milo declared.

“Nervous ?”, Zack asked him with a smile.

“A little.”, the teen admitted.

“What are you scared of ?”, Melissa interjected. “The waltz doesn’t start before a good hour. And you trained for this. You got this !”, she encouraged.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. I got this !”, and with that the trio entered the gym.

Just like for last prom, the place was greatly decorated. There was already music, played by one of the school bands. As Melissa predicted, the main dance wasn’t before a while. For now, Milo could just relax and have fun, at least as much fun as Murphy’s Law could permit without ruining the evening.

“Hi Milo !”, Milo immediately turned at the familiar voice that made his heart flutter.

“Hi Amanda !”, he greeted. Amanda was wearing a pink dress that reminded him of the one from last prom. The Hispanic girl also had a check-list with her, making Milo quickly understand that she planned the event. “Nice party !”, he complimented.

“Thanks !”

“I guess you’re in charge of every committee again ?”, Melissa asked with a smirk.

“Not this time. I wanted to have more time for myself.”, Amanda replied. “Though I did choose the people in charge. And made sure they all had backup if needed. And gave them all my number in case they need anything.”, the teen smiled awkwardly.

“But now you can have fun !”, Milo enthusiastically pointed out.

“Well, as long as nothing goes wrong.”, Amanda replied, looking in Milo’s direction.

“Oh don’t worry about that.”, Melissa said. “We’re here to make sure everything runs smoothly.”

“Yeah.”, Zack continued, pointing at his backpack. “The committee against Murphy’s Law and its backup are here !”

“Well, we’ll see how it goes.”, Amanda shrugged, though Milo could still see how nervous she was.

“Come on !”, he tried to encourage. “Let’s go see what they got for the buffet !”

“You spend way too much time with Dakota.”, Zack commented as the group started moving.

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

The evening had started in a great note. Of course, not everything went perfectly with Murphy’s Law. But, as long as Milo kept an eye open for trouble, the party could go on.

After several songs and about half an hour into the party, the lights toned down and the music changed for something more classical. Milo felt his heart start to beat faster.

It was time.

Turning towards his friends, Melissa gave him a gentle punch on his shoulder while Zack gave him a thumbs up, before the duo walked away, ready to deal with any eventuality.

Milo gulped, tried to calm himself with a deep breath, and turned his attention towards Amanda. The Hispanic teen was looking at the dance floor where a few couples were already starting to waltz, while others opted for a slow dance instead.

Milo offered her a hand, getting her attention.

“May I have this dance ?”, he asked, not without a blush.

Amanda looked between him and his hand before finally smiling. “Sure.”

Milo tried not to let his excitement show too much as he led her to the dancefloor. Remembering all of Cavendish’s lessons, he took position and they started to move.

As he expected, Amanda seemed to know exactly what she was doing and danced around with grace. Milo was doing pretty good too. He was especially satisfied about how easy it was to be with someone his size after spending four days dancing with taller people.

“You’re doing amazing !”, Milo flattered after a twirl.

“Thank you, Milo. You’re doing great yourself.”

“I’m glad you think that !”, the teen felt his face flush again. “I…I really trained hard to have a chance to dance with you.”, he admitted.

Amanda looked away with a blush of her own. “I’m…very glad that you did. And-“

She suddenly stopped as both of them heard the sound of glass shattering. They stopped in their tracks and turned at the same time, looking for the source of the problem. But as soon as they noticed the broken window, Zack was on it, already sweeping the shards away.

Milo was relieved to see that nobody had been hurt. He and Amanda shared a look before smiling and starting to dance again.

As they went through the room together, Milo started thinking of Dakota and Cavendish and the way the two of them would look at each-other while dancing. His envy from a few days ago came back as he thought of the possibility of him and Amanda being like that. Maybe that was it, maybe they could-

His thoughts were interrupted by a scream, and the pair stopped again, ready to act. But just like a few minutes earlier, the problem had already been half-resolved by Melissa who winked at the duo. Milo and Amanda went back to dancing.

“Melissa and Zack sure are doing a lot of work.”, Milo commented.

“I have to say, I’m impressed.”, Amanda replied. “I know they said that they got this, but I didn’t expect them to be so effective.”

“Well, they do have a lot of experience helping me deal with Mur-“, Amanda shushed him before he could finish.

“I think we’re unlucky enough without you mentioning it.”, she commented.

“Sorry.”, he replied.

“It’s alright.”, she reassured.

For a few instants, she smiled at him and he smiled back, growing in confidence. But before he could say anything else, another anormal noise was heard. And yet again, they stopped in their tracks, only to realize that the situation quickly got solved without their intervention.

“They really seem to have got this.”, Milo murmured, looking at his friends smiling at him and smiling back.

“You know, I’m surprised to see them willing to take this time to help instead of dancing.”

“Well, Melissa didn’t want to do this kind of dance.”, Milo explained. “And…weeelll, they kind of agreed to look out for me during this dance, so that we can have fun.”, the teen looked away, embarrassed.

“Oh.”, Amanda stayed silent for a beat, both teens looking away. “Well I’m…I’m glad they did. And perhaps…maybe they’re right.”

“What do you mean ?”, Milo looked back at her.

“Well-“

Another noise. But this time, as Milo looked away, he felt Amanda’s hand grab his cheek, pulling his attention back on her. The teen went back to dancing, leading Milo with her.

“I know it may sound crazy coming from me,”, she started. “but I think we should…ignore the mess.”, she looked horrified as she finished her sentence but shook her head to keep her composure. “Your friends got it. Let’s just…let’s just enjoy the dance.”

Milo looked at her for a second before feeling a smile spread across his face.

“You’re right. Let’s just keep going. And whatever goes wrong will get fixed without us !”

Amanda smiled back and the two started focusing back on their steps. Milo took back the lead and the two locked eyes, their smiles never faltering.

Slowly, as they kept dancing, Milo felt like the music was growing louder, making everything around them disappear, until all that was left was the two of them, gazing at each other while the soft music was leading their paired movements. Milo felt his heart pulse faster than ever, and yet, he never felt more at peace. He wanted to smile and laugh like never before, but all he did was continue dancing, admiring Amanda’s elegant steps. After a twirl, once they looked back at each other, the way Amanda looked at him made him feel like his heart was about to burst out. For a moment, he felt peace and happiness, pure happiness, and he wished for this instant to never stop.

He didn’t know how long they kept dancing, how long they stayed like this. All he knew was that, after a dip, it was all over.

The music ended, most of the couples started to pull away, and the band went back on stage. A few feet away, Melissa and Zack were trying to get a student out of a hole in the wall.

Milo and Amanda kept smiling at each other as Milo pulled Amanda back up. The teens then pulled away and avoided each other’s eyes, both blushing but unable to stop smiling.

“Amanda !”, Lydia suddenly interrupted. This snapped the Hispanic girl right out of her reverie.

Milo could only stand there, trying to blink his dream state away, as the two girls talked, until Amanda spoke to him.

“I’m sorry Milo, but I have to go.”, she apologized.

“Don’t worry.”, Milo tried to get his usual cheerful tone back. “A committee needs you, I understand.”, Amanda nodded.

“See you later, Milo !”

“See you later !”, Milo waved as the girls went away.

“Soooo.~”, Milo was taken by surprise as he suddenly noticed Melissa standing next to him with a smirk. “How did it go ? ~”

“Did you two have fun ?”, Zack continued, not without his own smile.

“It was…magical.”, Milo replied. He was still on cloud nine, Amanda’s smile forever graved on his memory. “Yeah. Truly magical.”

He really needed to thank Cavendish again.

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

The school prom was loud, loud enough to be heard a few streets away from the school. Though, the school had quieted for a while. And now, the music started again.

Vinnie smiled. Seemed like Milo’s time to shine was over. He hoped the kid had gotten the dance he wanted with his girlfriend.

With a nostalgic sigh, the man entered his ‘apartment’.

Balthazar was crouching near the couch, fumbling to get the bed open.

“The kid’s done.”, Vinnie said.

“What ?”, Balth stopped, looking at his husband in confusion.

“Milo. I’m pretty sure the waltz over.”

“Oh.”

“How do you think he did ?”, Vinnie smirked. “How much you wanna bet he fell ?”, he joked.

“Please.”, Balth smiled as he stood up. “Milo became quite the dancer. I’m sure he did wonderfully.”

“He did have a great teacher.”, the shorter man flirted.

“And he’s not the only one who learned a lot.”, Balthazar replied. The tall man took out his phone, and quickly put some music. Vinnie just looked curiously as his husband put the phone on the small table and offered him a hand. “May I have this dance ?”

“You’re not serious.”, Vinnie grimaced.

“Come on.”, Balthazar smiled in a way that made the shorter man silently curse the effect his partner had on him. “You did a lot of progress over the last few days.”

“Alright, alright.”, Vinnie sighed, though his smile betrayed his emotions. He took Balthazar’s hand, letting himself be led by the taller man. The two couldn’t move much as the space was small and cramped, but it didn’t stop Balth from doing a variety of steps.

Though, less than a minute into this, Vinnie tripped over the table’s feet and fell, barely giving Balthazar the time to react and push his partner towards the couch. Vinnie half-slumped half-fell into it.

“…Ouch…”, the shorter man complained

“Are you alright ?”

“Yeah.”

“Thank goodness.”, Balth mumbled, helping him up.

“You know what ?”, Vinnie declared. “We should let the kids do the whole dancing thing. I think I’m going to take a break from formal dances.”

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yumeka36 · 3 years

Text

The ending of Frozen 2...a year later

I try to stay away from touchy subjects like this, at least here on Tumblr. But since @greatqueenanna @the-blue-fairie and @vuelie-frost have recently written inspiring posts on this topic (which you can read here, here, and here), I wanted to give my two cents (well, more like a thousand cents because what I thought would just be a few paragraphs ended up becoming a mini-book!)

Just to be clear, my intention here is not to argue with anyone or invalidate their feelings about the end of Frozen 2. It's quite the opposite, actually. In my view, when we're presented with a beloved hobby that has disappointed us, we have a couple of options: one is to simply stop partaking in that hobby and move onto one that brings us more pleasure (no doubt some ex-Frozen fans have done that), or keep sticking around the fandom despite constant negative feelings about it which, I can't imagine, is that enjoyable. But there's another option too: when presented with something we don't like but won't divorce ourselves from and yet have no power to change – in this case, how Frozen 2 ended – what we can change is how we view it. The fact that people who disliked Frozen 2 are still part of the fandom even a year later shows just how strong the Frozen characters and their world are…that despite dissatisfaction, fans are still not willing to give up on the franchise and leave it in favor of another fandom. And if they're not willing to give up, but still can't help feeling let down about it, I'm hoping the reasoning I present in this post can possibly offer a fresh and, hopefully, more appealing perspective. My intention here is to help alleviate hard feelings, not entice arguments.

I also want to mention that I'm only discussing the ending of the movie, specifically the fact that Anna is queen of Arendelle and Elsa is living in the forest. I've addressed most other topics of theorizing and criticism in my Frozen 2 analysis book “Seek the Truth,” which you can read here. While I did discuss the ending in detail in the last chapter, I didn't expand on it nearly as much as I will in this post.

To make things easier, I'm going to address the most common griefs about the ending one at a time and offer my input:

-----

Anna and Elsa were separated for 13 years so they shouldn't be separated again.

I definitely agree that it would be tragic if they were forced apart again, unable to have a relationship like they did for most of their childhood. But the more times I watch Frozen 2, the more I just don't see that in the ending. To me, a separation is when both sides are split up against their will, unable to get together again. That's not the case for Anna and Elsa. I admit the epilogue of the movie was rushed, but out of the many loose ends it could have touched on, the filmmakers made sure to include Anna's letter to Elsa about charades night, which to me shows that they want us to know that the sisters still get together regularly (that's the feeling I get from the movie; I'm not including the questionable canon of the storybooks/comics in this, which I’ll discuss a little later). We could still infer they get together even if they didn't show the letter, because we know the forest is free again and Elsa can ride Nokk to Arendelle whenever she wants. But the filmmakers chose to show the letter to make it clear that there's nothing keeping them apart.

So then the point becomes "spending only 3 years together isn't enough." What number is enough, then? 5 years? 10 years? Any number is arbitrary for a case like this. But the length of time doesn’t matter because, to me, Frozen 1 showed how strong of a bond Anna and Elsa have despite hardly ever being in physical contact…a bond of love strong enough to thaw a frozen heart. So to think that now they could never be happy unless they're physically together 24/7 does an injustice to that bond that transcends physical boundaries. They suffered because of their separation in Frozen 1 – that was a true separation, because they wanted to have a relationship but were forced apart against their wills – and at the end of the movie, they could finally have the relationship they were yearning for. And at the end of Frozen 2, not only was their love cemented further from the epic adventure they shared, but they can continue to see each other as a family as well as live out the new roles bestowed upon them. Unlike a movie with an actual separation ending, like Toy Story 4 for example, where Woody and Buzz would never be able to see each other again except by some crazy coincidence, there is literally nothing stopping Anna and Elsa from continuing to have adventures together in future stories, while also satisfying their new duties and enjoying their lives both individually and as a family. That sounds like a very fulfilling life to me.

But the "Anna sans Elsa" book proves that they barely see each other and Anna misses Elsa a lot.

This sentiment comes down to whether you want to consider the relatively few post-movie storybooks as true canon or not. I consider them loose canon at best because no one involved with the creation of the canon Frozen movies/shorts had any involvement in their development and probably even knows they exist. There's also the fact that they're having such a minimal release – just one or two European countries have been getting them, and they're not even being released in English, which is arguably Disney's largest market. There're also conflicting implications between the stories, for example, the "Anna sans Elsa" book implies that Elsa hasn't visited for a long time, but the German comic where Elsa visits for charades implies that she does visit regularly (from @bigfrozenfan‘s translation here, she says "I wouldn't have missed an evening of charades with you for anything in the world!"). Then there's the "Explore the North Book" which shows Queen Anna visiting Elsa in the forest. Just because this book isn't a story is no reason to disregard it, especially when you consider the fact that it was the first book released to show the sisters interacting post-movie, plus it was actually released in larger markets, like the US and Japan. Even Anna's letter within the movie canon itself, telling Elsa not to be late for charades, is not written in a way that implies she hasn't seen Elsa for a long time. If anything, it implies the opposite to me…that these visits occur regularly. So what we can conclude from this is that Disney's publishing branch is releasing a few post-movie stories to limited markets to make some extra earnings, but obviously the book/comic authors are restricted with the kinds of stories they can depict; as in, they can't have stories that would affect the lore and canon, like showing Elsa's role in the forest or how Northuldra/Arendelle relationships are progressing. So they're going with safe side-stories like Anna doing familiar things in Arendelle and Elsa visiting for charades – things that can be inferred from the movie's ending but don't continue the narrative past that. This could also be why these books are having such a small release. Perhaps because the English-speaking market is so large, anything brought to that market could be seen as having relevance and clout, and Disney doesn't want that for these stories (because there's really no reason to not bring the books to other markets when children's book sales are soaring thanks to the pandemic). The "Anna sans Elsa" book is even getting a re-release with new pictures, again, only in French, which to me further illustrates the limitations on post-movie stories currently going on. So ultimately, I would not take details from these books/comics that are available to only 0000.1% of Disney's worldwide market as the "word of god," especially when they're inconsistent with each other and canon implies otherwise.

Anna isn't fit to be queen.

I'm not really sure what (canon) examples there are of Anna showing traits that would hinder her ability to be a good queen, or at least not as good a queen as Elsa. Is the reason for this because of her naivete about Hans? There's no evidence that shows she hasn't learned her lesson from that…it's not like she rushed into marrying Kristoff right away. If it's something about her personality being too reckless or something, Elsa has exhibited recklessness too, doing things without forethought like running away to live alone in an ice palace and risking her life to dive into Ahtohallan. But despite having these very human flaws, Elsa still turned out to be a good queen, so why would Anna be the opposite? Anna has proven herself to be brave, noble, and outgoing with people…all of which are great qualities for a ruler. Plus she's lived among royalty her whole life, and no doubt helped Elsa during her reign as queen, so she's not going into the position as a total novice. We barely see Elsa doing queenly activities in the Frozen canon, so how can we assume she's so much more fit to be queen than Anna? Again, I think this is another sentiment that stems from an aversion to something unfamiliar: fans want Elsa to remain queen because we've been familiar with that for years, but that doesn't mean Anna can't be a good queen, too. Canon-wise we haven't yet seen Anna do anything in the way of ruling, so why not give her the benefit of the doubt and a chance to prove herself?

The first Frozen established that Elsa shouldn't live in isolation and yet she's doing it again in Frozen 2.

In the first Frozen, Elsa isolated herself out of fear and refused to even get near anyone. What evidence is there that this is happening at the end of Frozen 2? I've heard assumptions that she's living in Ahtohallan now, but we don't know that for sure. The last scene of the movie shows her heading in that direction, but she could be visiting too. But regardless of where her actual place of dwelling is now, there's no reason to believe she's shutting herself off like she did in the first movie. The epilogue shows that she's happily interacting with the spirits, the Northuldra, and makes visits to Arendelle. Home is more than just a physical place where one dwells and sleeps; even if the forest is where Elsa does this now, Arendelle is still her home in all other regards.

An offshoot notion of Elsa living on her own in the forest is that it's somehow akin to the idea that "people who are different should live outside normal society." I don't understand this because to me it implies the person in question is being shunned; that they want to live in normal society but normal society doesn't want them. That is definitely not what's going on at the end of Frozen 2. As I'll explain in the following paragraphs, Elsa stays in the forest because she feels a newfound sense of freedom and is thrilled to explore this new world she found, but she can freely go back to Arendelle whenever she wants, and there's no indication that anyone there loves her any less (they should love her more actually because they all witnessed her save the kingdom from the tidal wave!) At the end if the movie, no one's being ostracized for being "different." Everyone's doing what makes them happy and can freely come and go as they please.

Why does Elsa need to stay in the forest? Why can't she stay in Arendelle and visit the forest?

A large majority of the hard feelings about Frozen 2's ending comes from the fact that it didn't clearly show what Elsa's role in the forest is. I definitely admit that the ending would have benefited from expanding on this, even just another line or two. But to me, it still leaves enough information for us to make reasonable inferences about what she's doing. We don't see the Northuldra or Arendellians interacting in the epilogue, which makes sense since they hated each other for decades and it'll take time to mend the relationship between them. When Elsa says to Anna "we'll continue to do this together" conveys to me that she knows they still have work to do as far as making amends between the kingdoms…she and Anna can serve as dual queen ambassadors between the two sides, a bridge, so to speak. Then there's also the fact that the spirits were angry for decades and it'll take time for them to return to the peaceful coexistent they had with the Northuldra, something Elsa can certainly help with (again, we don't see the spirits interacting with the Northuldra in the epilogue, only with Elsa).

On top of that, there's the fact that Elsa spent her whole life believing she was the only magical being in the world, and now she's discovered this whole new land of magic just waiting to be explored. As I explained in my analysis book, if we consider Elsa believing for years that her powers were a curse and no one but her possessed magic, and suddenly she's brought to a place where other magical beings exist, as well as a group of people who live in harmony with them, plus the fact that she's somehow a bridge between both magic and humans, it makes sense she'd be ecstatic and want to spend time indulging in this new land. The reason she doesn't just visit the forest while living in Arendelle is because being queen is a full time job that requires her to be present as much as possible. Trying to stay on top of all her queenly responsibilities while going back and forth to the forest all the time wouldn't amount to the kind of quality she wants for Arendelle royalty. But having someone like Anna who's already familiar with royal activities and loves Arendelle with all her heart, would be perfect for the role. Elsa never indicated it was her dream to be queen of Arendelle. She was born into the role and accepted it, and if the events of Frozen 2 never occurred, would have probably lived out her life happily in that position. But happiness isn't necessarily a final destination and sometimes things come along that alter the status quo, but also enhance what we thought was already a good life. What we can infer from Frozen 1 is that she doesn't want to live in fear and have to constantly suppress her powers and that she wants to have a relationship with her sister again. None of this is taken away from her at the end of Frozen 2: she's not living in fear but in freedom, she can use her powers without restraint and in brand new ways with the spirits and Ahtohallan, and she can not only continue to see her sister often and foster their relationship, but she can grow her relationship with herself and this new realization about the origin of her powers. And still another reason, perhaps the true purpose of the fifth spirit is more than a single task and Elsa is trying to discover what it is: what more can she do with her amazing powers now that the forest is free, both for the benefit of the Northuldra, the spirits, Arendelle…maybe even the world? There's a wealth of possibilities for future stories, and I believe this ties back to the fact that the post-movie books/comics can't touch on what her role in the forest is because it's too closely tied to continuing the canon story, and until the heads at Disney decide what direction to take it, all spin-off content will be limited.

And yes, it's true that these are just my theories, but they're theories based on many hours of rewatching, analyzing, and thinking critically about the movie, which I think is better than just dismissing the idea that Elsa has a role to play in the forest simply because it wasn't explicitly shown. Just because Elsa's new lot in life isn't spoon-fed to us doesn't mean it doesn't exist, and I think it's much more logical, and imaginative, to assume she's doing the kinds of things I just mentioned as opposed to doing nothing of significance in her life now. I prefer to be logical and imaginative, so I’m going with these reasons unless canon shows otherwise.

-----

After reading all this, you might think I'm in love with the ending of Frozen 2 and think it's perfect, but that's not the case. While I love Frozen 2 overall, I admit that the ending was rushed and it wasn't my first choice of an ending for the sequel I was anticipating for years. But at the same time, I'm open-minded, especially in regards to the fact that the story and characters I'm invested in are not my personal creations. They’re the products of someone else’s experiences, values, and beliefs, and I have to recognize that this is what makes them interesting even though I may not agree with everything. But who am I to say that my vision and headcanons for Frozen are somehow better than those of the filmmakers? I don't think so highly of myself as being more of an authority on Frozen than the creators themselves or even my fellow hardcore fans. But I have spent many hours of my life these past 7 years examining and analyzing the franchise and its characters, so I'd like to believe my words have at least some weight to them. That's the wonder of fiction…that someone's ideas can be interpreted and appreciated in a variety of ways by a variety of people. But that's also the tragedy of fictional stories that continue on with long gaps in between, like the gap between the two Frozen movies. During that long time, we can't help but build and prop up our headcanons and develop the feeling that we know these characters inside and out, what is and isn't good for them, how they would and wouldn't react in all situations, etc,. But two and a half hours (which is about the length of time of Frozen 1 plus the two shorts) is not enough time to show so much of a characters’ personality that we could really know them as much as we’d like (especially Elsa, who got relatively little screentime in the first movie). So when we're presented with the continuation of the story and find that the creators had a different view, a view that didn't return to the status quo we were familiar with, it can be very jarring. But that's the risk of falling in love with someone else's creations. And thankfully, the beauty of headcanons is that they're all our own and can be adjusted. Even though the outcome of Frozen 2 was not what I was expecting, it was a minimal effort to adjust my headcanons because I don't feel the ending was so outrageous and far removed from everything I loved previously about the franchise, for reasons I hope I explained clearly in this post.

If you still can't feel any better about the end of Frozen 2 despite all I've discussed here, I'm sorry…I really tried my best. All I can say now is that I hope future content will rekindle your appreciation for the franchise. I know it's been over a year since Frozen 2, which seems like a long time to go without any announcements of new material, but we have to remember that that's not a long time at all by Disney standards. The recent Disney investor's meeting proves how long it takes to churn out new content, especially on the animation side of things, as it took years for Princess and the Frog, Zootopia, and Moana to finally get new content. Disney immortalizes all their popular franchises and could go back to them months, years, or even decades later (The Lion Guard series came out over 20 years after The Lion King for example). Unlike other Disney franchises like Marvel and Star Wars that have their own production teams and studios, Frozen has to share resources with all of WDAS's other projects. So a year is still too early for the studio to go back to Frozen again, especially if you consider that it's technically only been a few months since we got new Frozen content in the form of Once Upon a Snowman. Patience is the key now and we don't know what the future holds. But I'm someone whose opinions will change with new information, so maybe tomorrow we could get an announcement about a new Frozen YA novel or Disney+ series that shows Anna and Elsa rarely see each other and Anna misses Elsa and Elsa's doing nothing noteworthy in the forest and everything I've said here can be tossed out the window. I don't think that will be the case though, so as long as we don't know anything for sure, I want to go with a positive outlook because, at the end of the day, your fandoms should lift you up instead of bring you down. Frozen is a juggernaut for Disney so I'd rather they take their time with the next installment for the franchise. It's not so much a question of "if" as much as "when" and "in what form"? So until we have those answers, I wish you all well…don't let the hope die out.

#frozen #frozen 2 #frozen2 #disney frozen

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hetamavi · 4 years

Text

Is America and England’s Relationship Romantic?

Introduction

For this analysis, I’ll be determining whether or not there’s anything romantic between America and England. In doing so, I’ll go into the potential for canonization and tie things into how romance in general is handled in Hetalia.

Because America and England have different perspectives, it’s easier to break things down by giving them each their own section. England will be covered first, followed by America, and then there’ll be a paragraph over whether or not it’s likely they’ll ever get in a canon relationship. Credit for these translated panels goes to Hetarchive.

England’s Crush

England’s side is the less ambiguous side. He’s attracted to America.

Before getting to the strips used for evidence of that claim, his broader behavior will be covered. Nothing about this broader behavior is overtly romantic, but it’s something that can be contextualized by the evidence of romantic feelings presented afterwards. The way he usually acts may not be explicitly romantic, but it is influenced by those kinds of feelings.

When England makes his first major appearance in the manga, his character is established through him harshly criticizing America’s plan against the Axis. Contrasting him with America is used to get across what kind of personality England has and also emphasizes their relationship as an important one. This is also how he’s later introduced in World Stars. Throughout the series, he insults America, teases him, and is over-the-top in criticizing things like his films. It’s not always unwarranted, but that doesn’t make it any less true that antagonizing America is something England seems eager to do at every opportunity he gets.

But antagonism isn’t all that he throws America’s way. America is on the receiving end of some of England’s harshest behavior. But when England is ready to put his pride aside and be at his most vulnerable, it’s usually when America is involved. When England thinks there’s an opening for him and America to grow even a little closer, he’s going to take that opportunity. He’s opened up to America about how hard the Fourth of July is on him, he was clearly touched over America offering to share his rations with him, he attempted to spend his “dying” moments telling him how he actually feels about him, he offered to be his friend instead of a whale…the list goes on.

America isn’t unique in being attacked by England. He also isn’t unique when it comes to getting to see England’s more vulnerable side. But he is unique in that both of these sides of England are aimed at him frequently and intensely. England will rip apart an American film to the extent that his behavior is funnier than insulting. He’ll also come running with Valentine’s Day chocolate when a third party tells him America wanted some from him. England wants attention and affection from America. And he wants it to an extent he’d be embarrassed to admit to. That mixes together with the fact that though England likes to insult America as being childish, he actually isn’t entirely above America’s antics and America often brings out that side of him where he doesn’t want to try so hard to be a mature adult.

England is fiercely protective of his pride. He doesn’t want to be hurt by rejection and he likes feeling mature in comparison to America. But his own wild side thrives off of America’s energy, especially when he’s feeling competitive, and he wants to be closer to him.This leads to a pattern of him usually being antagonistic towards America up until he thinks America would accept his honest feelings in which case, he becomes more honest and vulnerable. With that brief overview of England’s overall attitude towards America covered, it’s time to contextualize that behavior with evidence that the feelings England usually tries so hard to hide are romantic feelings. The first thing I’m going to bring up is, probably not surprisingly, Buon San Valentino. In Buon San Valentino, alongside the main plot that was taking place with Germany and Italy’s relationship, England was given his own short side-story that touched upon his romantic life.

This is the number one moment that’ll get brought up in any discussion around UsUk in canon and for good reason. This moment is canon confirmation of England’s crush. The counterargument someone might bring up is that Valentine’s Day isn’t always between lovers, but that argument doesn’t hold up well at all here. First, this is a side-plot to a larger plot concerning Germany believing Italy is in love with him. It’s an explicitly romantic plot where the only other notable deviations from it are concerning Hungary and Austria’s relationship and Prussia being lonely before overhearing Austria looking for a book on comforting Germans who have failed at romance. If this interaction were meant to be platonic, Himaruya would have done something to indicate that’s the case to distinguish it from that larger plot. He didn’t do that. Instead, England shows up blushing and stuttering to give America chocolate. Second of all, years later in another strip on Valentine’s Day, Himaruya described his understanding of European and American Valentine’s Day as being mainly between lovers, a description that matches up with how he portrayed the holiday in BSV.

The next strip is also really explicit in expressing England’s attraction towards America. This is a scene from the 2011 April Fools Day Event.

Not much to add on here. America was blackmailed into wearing a very provocative outfit. England responded by awkwardly complimenting him. Judging by the motion lines next to his outstretched arm and America pulling back, he might also be grabbing at the apron.

The last strip I’ll go into is “The Long-Deep Awaited Emotion is Ruined”. Explaining jokes aren’t fun, but it’s necessary here. Near-death love confessions are a very common trope. This scene initially seems to be playing that trope straight, England starts by admitting he doesn’t hate America. He then tries to say something else, something that seems much more significant. The build-up is there, but England is cut off before America can hear him out to the end. Then comes the subversion of expectations which are the heart of the joke. Instead of being upset, America celebrates England’s death knowing it’ll wake him back up. All the tension that was previously there is instantly gone.

This scene was absolutely meant to be an attempted love confession. All the build-up matches that of a love confession. Death swooping in to shut England up before he can say anything that’ll shake up the status quo of the series matches up with a love confession. The entire joke is that it looks like a classic death bed love confession up until expectations are deliberately subverted. Romance isn’t at the forefront of their relationship or anywhere near it for that matter. But England has had moments where he’s made it clear his feelings go beyond their usual platonic interactions. If he thinks America is initiating something romantic with him (Buon San Valentino), he’s ready to reciprocate. If America is in a revealing outfit (April Fools Day 2011), England is probably taking in the view. And if England has nothing else to lose (The Long-Awaited Deep Emotion is Ruined), he’s going to at least try to tell America what his real feelings are - even though maintaining the status quo of the series won’t let him. Aside from these moments, since he’s often not willing to be honest in what he wants, these feelings are a large part of why he swings back and forth between constantly antagonizing America and showing his softer side in hopes of becoming closer to him.

America’s Ambiguous Feelings

Now that I’ve laid out the evidence showing that England is attracted to America, it’s time to go into America’s perspective. Or, in the context of romance and England, his lack of a given perspective. To an extent, America’s behavior parallels England’s. Instead of being overly critical and grumpy towards England, he teases him. He makes comments towards him that will get him riled up, prank calls him, and comes up with schemes to get him to do what he wants -even if those schemes get England angry- instead of being more honest with him.

Also like England, he clearly cares for the other. And he cares a lot. He chose England above everyone else to pair up with for his Halloween costume contest, England was listed as one of only two friends of his in an early character description of America, and as much as he complains about having to help England home when he’s drunk, he still does it.

Here’s where a major difference is. Not only is America comparatively lacking in moments where he completely drops the teasing in order to be honest with his feelings, he’ll deflate emotionally heavy moments that England initiates. If England is ready to open up about his feelings, America is ready to shoot him down and laugh things off. A few examples include America shooting down England’s friendship offer, responding to England’s complaints of being cold with “I won’t do anything for you”, pretending to be happy about England dying so he’d wake back up. This combines with how his usual tactless behavior is used to obfuscate his actual feelings like what happened with the costume contest.

Bringing this all back around to the romance part of their relationship, it’s hard to tell where America stands. There’s not really any concrete evidence that he likes England back and he doesn’t engage with England’s more forward moments.

There is some evidence he might not think of England as attractive.

When France brought him to a cafe, one that he didn’t give America any details on, he seemed uncomfortable. He also didn’t seem to appreciate the pass England made at him in the 2011 April Fools Day event. However, in both of these situations, it’s more likely that it was the revealing outfits making him uncomfortable and not that it was England involved in those situations.

The one thing that can be concluded is that he’s aware of England’s feelings. Running back through the strips brought up with England, there’s evidence of that much. He didn’t react all that much to England making a pass at him in his waiter outfit. The comment he made didn’t seem to surprise America at all. It just made an already uncomfortable situation more uncomfortable. He also didn’t seem curious as to what England was trying to say before he was cut off by the Grim Reaper which implies he’s already well aware of where England was going. Once England was back up, he didn’t push the subject at all. And him knowing makes sense. America is not as oblivious as he often acts, as shown in his interaction with Canada brought up earlier where he privately acknowledged Canada’s feelings and that, to a lot of people, his own personality makes him difficult to get along with. He’s very much capable of reading the atmosphere and picking up on the feelings of others even if his behavior doesn’t always reflect that.

There are various plausible interpretations over why America has never directly acknowledged England’s feelings. Maybe he doesn’t feel the same and doesn’t want to hurt his feelings. Maybe he reciprocates, but something else is holding him back from doing anything about it like not feeling ready for a relationship. Whatever his reasoning is, anything I could come up with would just be an interpretation and nothing that can be concretely proven.

That’s the non meta way of seeing America’s perspective anyway.

Why UsUk (Or Any Other Ship) Probably Won’t be Canonized

Let’s take a moment to focus on Hungary. In a series with a by far mostly male cast, Hungary was the first female character and she remains as likely the most popular female character from the series. It’s a status matching the panel time, development given to her, and how long she’s been a part of the series. And there’s a trait that she, again the first major female character, was given.

Hungary really likes cute boys. Not just cute boys as individuals, but cute boys being sexually involved with each other as well. So much so, that she was willing to wait out France assaulting Austria for a bit so she could watch. Hungary is meant to be an audience surrogate in this way. She’s a fujoshi. Hetalia doesn’t really qualify as a BL manga, but it definitely falls into the category of manga that focuses on a mostly male cast, has a lot of fanservice, and there is a lot of potential for romance when it comes to several of the male-male relationships. This is something Hima is very conscious of. The series is not at all lacking in opportunities to see the male cast undressed and there’s even a strip where he recommends “My Neighbor Yaoi-Chan” to readers. Whether or not he’s familiar with the BL genre, he definitely seems to be familiar with its audience.

So maybe this might make the conclusion in the title of this section seem wrong. If Hima is knowingly doing things that appeal to people into BL and the category of manga previously mentioned, then wouldn’t it make sense that it’s likely UsUk and/or another ship could be canonized? Actually, no. The interactions between America and England aren’t meant to seriously build up to a relationship upgrade, they’re supposed to show that the potential exists. The way this is often done in other works is by being really heavy with subtext without any confirmations, but Himaruya seems to have a trend of confirming things on one side of a relationship, but never having the other side respond to those feelings or even acknowledge them. This is not just true for UsUk. It’s true for GerIta and SuFin as well. The former even has an unresolved potential childhood love backstory (something that fans are no closer to getting closure on over ten years after Buon San Valentino was made) while the latter had Sweden’s feelings for Finland directly confirmed by Himaruya. There’s an importance to never crossing the line into relationship territory and that importance is that it would take control out of the hands of fans. The more obvious way in which this would happen is not everybody would like the pairings he’d go with and are instead invested in other pairings involving the same characters. It’s likely that many fans would even drop the series over this depending on how invested they are in shipping. The other reason involves the shippers of the canonized pairing. People who ship a certain don’t necessarily have the same vision for what a relationship between the characters would look like and some fans get very invested in their specific take. By not canonizing any pairings, fans can iron out the details themselves instead of potentially being disappointed. Contrary to what one’s intuition might be on appeasing this kind of audience, lesser is better.

Back to UsUk specifically, it’s not that America’s behavior couldn’t be explained with in character reasoning. It absolutely could. But that lack of response exists within a broader pattern of teasing relationships that never go anywhere. This is something I’d love for Himaruya to prove me wrong on when/if he returns from his hiatus. But unless that surprising turn of events happens, this is why UsUk (or any other ship) won’t be canon.

I’ll end this section with this picture.

Here, you can see that England is using part of America’s uniform as a pillow, a clearly intimate gesture. We know England wanted to use the uniform. He wouldn’t have it if he didn’t. But how did he end up with it? Did America give it to him? Did he toss it to the side and England took it? This question, where America’s feelings are relevant, isn’t something Himaruya is going to answer. Fans are left to come up with their own answer, the answer that makes them the happiest.

Conclusion

There’s enough evidence within the text to conclude England has romantic feelings for America. Buon San Valentino confirmed that much and there are other moments to back that up coupled with a fixation on America that manifests in a mix of grumpy, over-the-top critical behavior and vulnerable, openly affection-craving behavior. America, on the other hand, is more ambiguous. He parallels England in some ways in that he clearly wants the other’s attention, but usually doesn’t go about it in the most honest way. But unlike England, there’s no concrete evidence showing romantic feelings on his part. Even though England has feelings for America, those feelings are unlikely to ever be fully acknowledged in the text itself. The way the series goes about romantic relationships is by indicating there are romantic feelings on one side, opening up the possibility for a relationship but never actually delivering anything beyond the possibility. This makes it unlikely the two will ever get into a relationship.

#hetalia #usuk #aph england #aph america #hws england #hws america

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a-student-out-of-time · 3 years

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*sigh* How does this happen to us? We have to tell our Overlord Gundham Tanaka and the rest about this, RIGHT NOW!.- Miru

*At lunch, the group reconvenes in an empty classroom in the school*

And yeah, that’s the situation...

To think such a demon would be at fault...

They shall not come within 10 parsecs of her! I swear upon my very soul!

Another serial killer...

This is so fucked up...

Sonia...a-are you sure you’d never heard of this?

No...I have never once heard of a Copycat Killer. Copycat Killings are certainly real, but those are imitations of other killers.

One that takes the identity of their victims...it is fascinating, I will admit.

*’Ryota’ eats a large sandwich* And you need my help with that?

Well, sort of. Do you know how the hell someone can copy someone else’s identity so thoroughly?

Well...it’s easier than you think.

Quick question first, though: have you ever heard of Frédéric Bourdin?

The con artist? The released a film of his story in August!

N-No? Who is he?

Well, in 1994, a 13-year-old American boy named Nicholas Barclay went missing from his home. They looked for him, but they never found out what happened. But then, 3 years later, his family got a call from someone in Spain who found someone claiming to be Nicholas.

He told Spanish officials and the Barclay family that he was Nicholas, and that he’d been kidnapped and sexually abused by Mexican, European and American military personnel and transported from the U.S. to Spain.

But...he wasn’t.

No. He was actually Frédéric Bourdin, a 23-year-old French man who had a history of impersonating kids.

23...? And...his family believed it?

Yes. It sounds crazy- not only was he older, but Bourdin knew nothing about him. He didn’t even know if Nicholas-san was right or left-handed.

I should also add that he did not set out to impersonate him. Bourdin had no ID and no documents, and since he could not prove his identity, he was at risk of being sent to somewhere he did not want to end up. It was on a whim that he said he was an American, and he simply stuck with the story from that point on.

When he heard the American embassy to Spain had learned of him, and he would be sent to this family he did not know, he attempted to run away and hitchhike. But as fate would have it, the first car that stopped for him were people from the embassy.

Okay, but...how does a 23-year-old French man pretend to be an American teenager?

It’s about body language. He wore really thick clothes, a scarf, a hat, and never let anyone see his eyes. He acted like a scared, confused kid. He never talked much and only gave simple answers in a quiet voice. Plus, his story for why was...horrible enough that everyone, even officials, believed it.

And a lot of it was probably because the Barclay Family really wanted to believe their son was back. People...when they want to believe the person they’re looking for is right there, with them...they can ignore a lot of the flaws with the idea. Just because they want to have them back.

To be honest...I understand Bourdin. In his interviews in the documentary, he said he had a very young mother, he was born from a romance with an Algerian man and his grandfather was horribly racist. His whole life, he wished he was somebody else. He wanted a place he could feel like he belonged, where he could be loved.

I’m guessing that didn’t turn out well when the family found out...

No. After he got on the news, and the FBI got involved to track down whoever kidnapped him, a private investigator did his own digging into it. He knew it from the ears.

Not a lot of people know this, but ears are a good way of identifying people. They have unique bends, the earlobes are connected or they hang loose. It’s not something you think about, but it can be a damning piece of evidence.

I see. But...what about Nicholas-san? Did they...they ever find out what happened?

No. There’s been a lot of speculation that his older brother actually killed him, but he died of a drug overdose, so nobody knows for sure. There wasn’t enough evidence for a murder case. To this day, he’s still listed as a missing person.

Bourdin was arrested, deported and now he’s living in France. He’s a criminal to be sure, but at least he’s not dangerous.

This Copycat Killer? They’re something else entirely...

#danganronpa #sdr2 #Super Danganronpa 2 #Hajime Hinata #Sonia Nevermind #gundham tanaka #hiyoko saionji #Chiaki Nanami #Mikan Tsumiki #ultimate imposter #a student out of time #DR #Let the Dogs Out arc

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orangeoctopi7 · 3 years

Text

Spiderstan AU Chapter 12

RESEARCH

No one was in a good mood the next morning. Stan was still nursing a huge headache as he recovered from the last bits of Gremloblin neurotoxin. Ford was still cross with Stan for endangering himself and Fiddleford the previous day, as well as a bit distracted thinking about what Bill could possibly be sending him. And poor Fiddleford had obviously not slept a wink last night, although whether that was due to discomfort from the broken arm or anxiety after the Gremloblin attack was unclear.

“Are either of you feeling up to retrieving our supplies?” Ford asked as they all poked at a breakfast of instant oatmeal.

“No.” Stan grumbled into his bowl, pinching the bridge of his nose, as though he could draw the tension out from behind his eyes.

“...Fiddleford?” Ford asked when his friend didn’t respond. The inventor looked up with a start.

“Wh-what?” he reacted as though someone had just threatened him.

“I just want to know if you’re feeling up to going back up the hill and retrieving the supplies we had to leave behind.”

McGucket fidgeted with the sling that was holding his broken arm in place. “N-n-no, no I don’t think so.”

Ford frowned with concern. “Alright. I should be able to manage on my own with the amulet of levitation. Stanley, could you at least take Fiddleford to the hospital, so you can get a professional to set it and provide a proper cast?”

“Waste of money, if y’ask me.” Stan grunted.

“I didn’t ask you.” Ford hissed. “Fiddleford, I suppose it’s your own choice whether you want to go see a doctor or not.”

“No! I’m not crazy! I’m not seein’ no shrink!” his friend snapped.

“...I meant for your arm.” Stanford clarified, after a moment of stunned silence.

“...Oh. R-right…. Yeah… r-reckon I oughta…”

“Look, buddy, if you don’t wanna go to the hospital, no judgement here.” Stan assured the inventor. “And if you do wanna go, I’ll drive ya, just don’t expect me to come in with you.”

“They don’t charge you for sitting in the waiting room, Stan.” Ford rolled his eyes.

“No, but if I ask for a cup of water, they’d probably add it to your bill.” Stan countered.

Ford stood and grabbed his coat, along with a small turquoise stone set in a brass broach. “Well, you two work out what you want to do. I’m going to go retrieve our things.”

“Try not to get yourself killed while you’re off on your own, ok?” Stan called after him as he left.

“I’ll be fine, mom!”

Stan and McGucket just sat chewing their oatmeal for another moment or two before either of them spoke again.

“So, uh, just to be clear, did you want me to drive you to the hospital, or…?”

“Oh, I reckon I should go.” McGucket nodded, more confident this time. “Mainly ‘cuz this make-shift cast an’ sling Stanford made fer me ain’t ‘xactly comfer’ble. A professional one’ll prob’ly be better protection, too.”

“Alright, we’ll go in a minute, just lemme finish eating.”

“While we’re out, I think we oughta talk ‘bout Stanford’s, uh, mysterious friend.”

Stan grimaced. “Yeah. I think that thing was here again last night. I was too out of it to go check, though.”

“Does it show up every night?” McGucket asked anxiously.

“Nah, I only felt it a few times while you were gone.” Stan informed him. “And two of those were during the day. I dunno what that thing’s deal is.”

“That’s ‘xactly why we gotta learn more ‘bout it.” the inventor. “It don’t seem like Ford’s gonna be very forthcoming with information, so we’ll have to start askin’ around the town.”

“How do we do that in a way that, y’know, doesn’t make people think we’re crazy?”

Fiddleford flinched at Stan’s words, and he needed a few seconds to regain his composure.

“Like I said before, lots’a Native American artefacts round the valley have that one-eyed triangle on it. I’m sure if’n we just ask people if they know what it is or where it comes from, act like we’re jus’ interested in the history, that won’t turn no heads.”

“Yeah, cuz I’m sure people will believe a guy like me is just interested in history.”

“Why not? Nobody here knows you ‘cept maybe as Ford’s brother, if they don’t just mistake you for ‘im outright. It ain’t that hard to believe.”

Stan opened his mouth to argue, but Fiddleford had a point. Maybe this would work.

* * *

After dropping Fiddleford off at the hospital, Stan started asking around about the yellow triangle thing. While most folks at least recognized the symbol when Stan drew it, no one really knew where it came from or what it was, other than something associated with the illuminati. Nobody knew about its connections to local Native American folklore. Stan supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised, it wasn’t like he expected the hospital receptionist to be an expert on Native American history.

Thankfully, Fiddleford’s checkup didn’t take too long. Stan had just wrapped up a conversation with an old farmer when the inventor stepped back into the waiting room, wearing a new cast.

“Any luck?” McGucket asked as they climbed back into Stan’s car.

“No. Shockingly, none of these yokels know anything about our mysterious visitor.”

“Hmmm, I reckon we’ll have better luck researchin’ at the library.”

Stan groaned loudly.

“What’ve you got against libraries?” Fiddleford asked, like an insult to the library was as bad as a personal insult.

“Nothin’, libraries are great, they’re some place I can go for air conditioning or heating and just sit around for a few hours without raisin’ a fuss. What I ain’t a fan of is researching.”

Fiddleford chuckled and shook his head. “Well, lucky for you I’m plenty experienced in that department. S’pose you could chat with the librarians while I do the book research.

The library was nearly empty, considering it was the middle of the day on a Wednesday. Of course, that meant the librarians weren’t too preoccupied to answer some questions. One helped Fiddleford search the catalog for books on the local tribes’ history and folklore, while the other talked to Stan.

“Ah yes, you see a lot of this figure in ancient art.” The librarian nodded. “Many people erroneously assume it’s a Freemason or illuminati symbol, but it actually becomes much less common after European contact.”

“Why’s that?” Stan asked.

“Hmm, I’ll admit I don’t know. We haven’t got access to any recordings of local oral tradition. Although I’ve heard many Native American communities are starting to tape that sort of thing. If you really want to know the original story behind that symbol, you should go to the original source!”

“Yeah, cuz I’m sure they’re eager to share the story with some random white guy.” Stan rolled his eyes.

“Oh, I’m sure as long as you’re respectful, they’d just be happy someone is taking an interest. Warm Springs Reservation is only about an hour and a half drive from here, they’re a confederation of Tenino, Wasco, and Paiute tribes. They have a museum, you should go pay them a visit.”

Respectful wasn’t usually in Stan’s vocabulary, but he supposed this case was an exception.

Seeing as the librarian didn’t have much more info for Stan, he contented himself with browsing the library’s comics section while Fiddleford did his book research. The nerd took much less time than Stan had been expecting.

“This library’s collection of local Native American folklore ain’t what I’d call extensive.” Fiddleford shook his head, “I was only able to find a couple of tangential references to the thing. All I got is it’s associated with knowledge.”

“Hmph, no wonder Ford’s buddy-buddy with it.”

“What ‘bout you, did the librarian have any more info for ya?”

“Not really, but she did recommend I go visit the nearest reservation and check out their museum. Not a bad idea really, ‘snot like we’ve gotten any info from anyone else. Plus, I bet they’ve got a casino!”

“That’s not really gonna help us figure anything out.”

“No, but it’ll help me blow off steam. Besides, Ford’ll be suspicious if I suddenly wanna visit a Native American museum. I’m coverin’ my tracks.”

* * *

Thanks to Ford’s photographic memory and stopping to get directions from a passing gnome, the young researcher was able to find their gear and carry it back to Fiddleford’s truck in just a few hours. Retracing his steps brought back memories of their hike, both good and bad. That night around the campfire had been nice, talking about their plans for the future, joking with Stan… but then the next morning, he’d overhead his friends talking behind his back.

“...And while you were on vacation, he kinda implied he wasn't up here alone before you moved in. I think this has been going on for a while. Maybe even years. Did you ever notice anything weird right after you moved in?"

"Other than that creepy triangle symbol everywhere? Not really…"

Ford grit his teeth, and the levitating objects in front of him wobbled. Didn’t they trust him? Even if he couldn’t tell them about Bill, couldn’t they at least understand that he was just doing what he could to further their research? Why did they automatically assume Bill was dangerous?

“...They could have at least asked me…” The researcher muttered under his breath.

“WELL, THEY COULD HAVE, BUT WE BOTH KNOW YOU WOULDN’T HAVE BEEN ABLE TO GIVE THEM A STRAIGHT ANSWER.”

“Bill!” Ford startled in surprise.

“HEYA SIXER, THOUGHT I’D COME KEEP YOU COMPANY WHILE YOU PICK UP AFTER YOUR BROTHER’S MESS.”

“Thank you, Bill, I appreciate it.” Ford smiled gratefully.

“HEY, WHAT ARE FRIENDS FOR! NOT LIKE THOSE JERKS WHO LEFT YOU TO DO THIS ON YOUR OWN.”

“Well, that’s not their fault. They’re both still recovering from the Gremloblin attack yesterday.”

“SO, WHAT’S EATIN’ YA, SIXER? BESIDES YOUR OWN BODY’S METABOLISM SLOWLY BURNING ITSELF OUT.”

Ford sighed. “I just wish I could tell them about you. It’d make things so much easier!”

Bill tisked. “THEIR REACTION TO MY HELP AT THE ALIEN SHIP IS PROOF ENOUGH, THEY JUST WOULDN’T GET IT.”

“But if I had a chance to explain--”

“WE’VE ALREADY DISCUSSED THIS, FORDSY. EVEN IF THEY DO TAKE YOUR EXPLANATION SERIOUSLY AND DON’T THINK YOU’VE FINALLY LOST IT, ARE YOU REALLY NAIVE ENOUGH TO BELIEVE THEY’LL JUST GO ON SUPPORTING YOU? WE BOTH KNOW WHAT STANO’S LIKE WHEN YOU’RE ABOUT TO MOVE ON TO SOMETHING BIGGER AND BETTER. AND FOUR-EYES ALREADY ADMITTED TO YOUR FACE HE’D RATHER BE WORKING ON HIS OWN PROJECTS BACK HOME WITH HIS FAMILY. YOU REALLY THINK HE WOULDN’T TAKE THE FACT THAT YOU’VE GOT ME AS A SIGN HE’S OK TO PACK UP AND HEAD BACK HOME?”

“N-no, he wouldn’t… I still need his help!”

“HMMM, MAYBE YOU’RE RIGHT. MAYBE HE’D HELP HIMSELF TO YOUR PRELIMINARY RESEARCH AND PUBLISH IT HIMSELF FIRST.”

“Fiddleford’s my friend, he wouldn’t do that!”

“OH RIGHT, I FORGOT! YOU TWO ARE SUCH GOOD FRIENDS YOU’D NEVER LIE TO EACH OTHER OR TALK BEHIND THE OTHER’S BACK!”

Ford did not have a good rationalization for that.

“I’M JUST SAYING, STANFORD, BE CAREFUL WHO YOU TRUST!”

* * *

Stan and McGucket were helping themselves to a late lunch when Ford returned with their equipment.

“So you went to the hospital after all.” Ford observed, nodding at Fiddleford’s new cast.

“Oh, yep…” Fiddleford answered. The inventor still seemed anxious and distracted.

“How long did they say you’d need to wear the cast?”

“‘Bout a week…” Fiddleford tapped his foot nervously.

Ford frowned. “I was hoping we’d be able to start connecting the hyperdrive to the portal tonight, but I supposed Stanley could help lift the superstructure.”

“Mmmnope.” Stanley declined. “I’m headin’ out to the casino tonight.”

“What? Why?”

“To gamble, genius, what do you think I’m gonna do at a casino?”

“No, I mean… why do you feel the need to go to a casino?”

“Have a little fun, make a little cash.”

“...Is this because I still haven’t gone grocery shopping?”

“What!? No, for cryin’ out loud, Ford, I just wanna go out and spend a night on the town!”

“On a Wednesday?”

“Yeah, that’s how you beat the crowds! I figure I deserve a break after fighting a monster and getting poisoned!”

“Oh…” Ford deflated. “... that’s fair. But… you’re coming back afterwards, right?”

Stan rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry, your latest specimen isn’t gonna fly the coop.”

Stanford frowned at his brother’s comment, but didn’t offer a retort. Instead he set about fixing his own late lunch. “So yet another day goes by where we make no progress on the portal project.”

“Stanford, I know yer eager to make your mark and get answers, but there really ain’t any reason we can’t take another day or two!” Fiddleford assured him. “There ain’t no ‘Weirdness Rush’ yet.”

“Perhaps, but one thing I’ve learned over the last six years here is that it’s far too easy to get distracted by every little fascinating thing one comes across here. If we don’t stay focused, we could easily keep putting it off until it just never gets done. I prefer to strike while the iron is hot.”

“Well, you keep striking iron, Ford.” Stan waved him off. “Tonight, I’m hopin’ to strike gold!”

* * *

After Stan left, the two scientists spent the night going over calculations and carefully inspecting the hyperdrive. Ford was disappointed they wouldn’t be able to start hooking it up to the mechanics of the portal just yet, but it was the kind of delicate mechanical work he only trusted McGucket with. He wished he had some more manual work to preoccupy his mind tonight. The young researcher had a hard time focusing on his calculations; his mind kept wandering to his brother.

If Stan won the jackpot, he’d be able to support himself. He wouldn’t have any more reason to stay here and work with me… Would he even come back? Would he even bother telling us?

Ford sighed with frustration as he realized he’d just read the same equation three times over. He really needed something to keep his hands occupied while he worked. He reached over to McGucket’s desk for what he often did when he needed something to keep his hands busy, and picked up his friend’s Cubics Cube. He raised an eyebrow when he noticed it still hadn’t been solved since the last time he scrambled it. He’d never seen Fiddleford leave it unsolved for more than a few hours. He glanced over to see the young inventor also seemed to be having trouble focusing on his work.

“You can’t concentrate either?” Ford asked, noticing how Fiddleford’s knee kept up a steady pace of 2 kbps, but his eyes stayed fixed at the top of the page he was supposed to be checking.

Fiddleford startled at his friend’s words. “S-sorry, jus’ tired. Didn’t sleep well last night.”

Ford offered him a sympathetic smile. “I don’t imagine so. I’m sure you’ll be on the mend soon enough though.”

“Mmm.” McGucket hummed noncommittally. “And how ‘bout you, what’s keepin’ you from concentratin’?”

The researcher hemmed and hawed for a moment before he finally settled on an answer. “I suppose I’m a bit concerned with Stanley. I know he’s staying here because he’s got nowhere else to go, and I’m happy to give him a place to stay, but if things go well for him at the casino tonight… why would he stay here if he suddenly acquires the means to support himself?”

McGucket huffed a small chuckle and rolled his eyes. “It’s like I keep tellin’ ya Ford, you oughta be tellin’ him this stuff, and not me! If’n you really want him to stay, then you gotta be honest with him!”

“I-I am!” Ford insisted, willfully ignoring the fact that he was not, in fact, being honest about Bill. That didn’t count. He’d tell Stan if he thought Stan needed to know.

The inventor just rolled his eyes again. “Mama was right, can’t be honest with others if’n ya ain’t honest with yerself first.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“You know what I mean, ya lost yer temper with me the last time I brought it up!”

Ford scoffed. “I am not under some deluded hope that if Stan stays, it will magically solve our issues.”

Fiddleford nodded. “Yeah, it does seem like you two are past that point. Now you’re just wantin’ to keep him around ‘cuz he’s your brother and you’ll miss him!”

The atmosphere of the room instantly went cold, and the pages of calculations in Fords hands crinkled as his grip tightened. “I would absolutely. Never. Try and keep Stan around. Just because I would miss him.” He enunciated through clenched teeth. “I… I simply… I have his best interests in mind! And the interest of my research! But I’m not trying to keep him here! He’s free to leave! He--he’s free to pursue other interests!”

McGucked raised his hands placatingly. Obviously, he had touched a nerve. “I’m sorry, I misspoke! I jus’ meant to say you care about him is all!”

“Of course I care about him! When was that ever in question!?”

Fiddleford gave him a steady look. “When ya went more than ten years without talkin’ to each other.”

Ford flushed. “It’s not like Stanley ever reached out to me! And I was the one who had a regular address and phone number! How was I supposed to talk to him, when he was always traveling!? Even our mother never got more than the occasional postcard!”

“I’m not sayin’ yer brother’s blameless in this, Ford, I’m jus’ sayin’ you could stand to actually let him know how you feel!”

“I don’t even know how I feel half the time!” The researcher burst. He was stunned by his own words, and took a moment to collect his thoughts and calm down a bit before continuing. “Stanley’s my brother, and he was such an important part of my life growing up. Of course I care about him. But the things he’s done-- the things he still does-- the way he ignores what I want because he thinks he knows best-- it infuriates me! So I suppose you could say my feelings for him are… complicated.”

Fiddleford nodded. “Family’s always complicated.”

Ford scoffed derisively. “This is considerably more complicated than the average family squabble.”

McGucket laughed. “You’re right about that! Well, if it makes ya feel any better, I’m pretty sure Stan ain’t gonna run out on ya tonight, even if he does win it big at that casino. He’s got unfinished business here, after all.”

“That’s an odd way to refer to our continued studies of his powers, but I suppose you’re right.”

* * *

The parking lot for the Warm Springs History Museum was completely empty. Not that the casino lot across the way was packed, but it at least had a few cars parked near the entrance. Stan worried the museum might be closed, but he saw the light was on, and the door was unlocked.

There didn’t appear to be another soul in the building. Stan wandered around from one exhibit to the next, looking for anything that might be related to Ford’s mysterious benefactor. Stan wasn’t really all that surprised that he didn’t find anything. Finally, he rounded a corner and found the gift shop. A teenage girl who was probably supposed to be the cashier sat in front of a small TV. It was clearly supposed to be playing a VHS that the gift shop was trying to sell, but instead an Itira 3600 was hooked up and playing Brick Break.

“Uh, ‘scuse me?” Stan cleared his throat and knocked gently on the counter.

The girl didn’t glance away from the screen, eyes carefully following the bouncing pixel as it broke through another line of bricks. “Yeah I know you’re there I can see your reflection on the screen. We close in like ten minutes, just grab whatever you want and I’ll ring you up once I clear this level.”

“I’m not here to buy anything.”

“Then you better turn around and head back to the casino, ‘cuz bricks ain’t the only thing I can break.”

“I don’t want anything from you either!” Stan assured her, waving his hands innocently. “I just got some questions about, uh, tribal history.”

“That’s what this museum is here for, sir.” She answered flatly.

“The thing I’m askin’ about isn’t in the museum, trust me, I checked.”

“We got history books too.”

“I doubt it’s in there either. Hey, if you’re too busy, is there someone else I can talk to?”

The girl tisked and tilted her game controller. “Yeah yeah, just a sec. I just got one more line at the top.”

Stan rolled his eyes and tapped his fingers on the counter impatiently. He supposed he couldn’t blame the girl. This was probably a very boring job. He knew most people who came this way were probably more interested in the casino, not the history of the people who had to run it just to make ends meet.

The girl finally cleared the level and put her controller down as the new level loaded in. “Ok, what’s your question.”

“Ok, this might sound stupid, but can you tell me more about what this thing is?” Stan pulled a pamphlet off the counter and drew the triangle with the eye. “I think it’s usually yellow?”

The girl raised her eyebrow in surprise when she took in Stan’s drawing. “Oh… that. You don’t see anything about that in here because that’s associated with… I guess the best word for it would be curses?”

Stan’s heart skipped a beat. “R-really? The little research I did on it beforehand said it was associated with knowledge.”

“Yeah, cursed knowledge.” The girl told him. “I’ll admit, I’m not super familiar with it. It’s kinda really ancient. When Nathaniel Northwest swindled us out of our land in Gravity Falls, we were relative newcomers. All the other tribes in the area believed the valley was cursed, because of that thing.”

Stan gulped. “What, uh, what’d it do?”

The girl put on her best storytelling voice. “Well, a thousand years ago, there was an old shaman called Modoc the Wise. He and his people worshipped that being. Until one day, Modoc learned its terrible secret. Modoc warned the people that the being they’d been worshipping was a liar, and that it would lay waste to the valley. But before he could tell them any more, the being drove him mad, and he slaughtered half his tribe before lighting himself on fire to try and stop it!”

Stan paled. “So, uh, this guy’s really bad news, huh?”

“That’s an understatement, but yeah.” The girl nodded. “Why do you want to know, anyway?”

“Uh, I live in Gravity Falls. I’ve just seen this thing on a lot of stuff, wondered what it was.”

“Ah, well, have fun living with the knowledge that your hometown is cursed!” She smiled viciously at him. “Now, it’s closing time. Are you gonna buy something or not?”

* * *

Stan tried to take his mind off things at the casino. His superhuman reflexes made him a whiz at the slots, but he had learned in the past that winning too much tended to draw unwanted attention. Of course, Stan was too busy trying to process what he’d just learned to pay much attention to his gambling, so it’s not like he could have won it big even if he was trying.

After just half-an-hour, it was clear that his heart just wasn’t in it today. Stan decided to play a round of Craps before he left, just to get in some dice rolling. Then he’d head home.

Careful. He warned himself. Don’t go callin’ that place your home. You know the second you get comfortable there is the second Ford decides he doesn’t want you around anymore.

By the time he finished, Stan managed to leave with about $20 more in his pocket than when he came in, so it wasn’t a bad night, gambling-wise. And he had at least learned something about that triangle guy. It just wasn’t good news. The trip certainly wasn’t a loss. So why did Stan feel like he hadn’t gained anything?

These thoughts weighed so heavily on his mind, that he never noticed the eyes on him as he left the casino.

“We’ve found him.” A shadowy figure spoke into his walkie-talkie.

* * *

PSM WAZF FFY OENKGK KS LELB, TPXLL QAT? YOP HGR’T PQB KEDO TF UVDI GJ YFWY FPV JRZGUUW?

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translations-by-aiimee · 3 years

Text

Dig a Grave to Dig Out a Ghost - Chapter 24

Original Title: 挖坟挖出鬼

Genres: Drama, Horror, Mystery, Supernatural, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 24 - Inside Story

"Sorry." Lin Yan mumbled to the boy's back. He wasn't sure why. No one could see Xiao Yu, which always made him a little anxious. Lin Yan hesitated and for the first time took the initiative to reach out and touch Xiao Yu's statue-like fingers and whispered, "It's lonely, isn't it? Of all the people in the world, I'm the only one who can see you and I treat you badly."

Lin Yan stared at the endless highway outside the window and sighed: "Sometimes I think that, if a person walks down the street but seems invisible, desperately waving and no one responds, desperately shouting and no one hears, this feeling will definitely drive a person crazy. When I sit alone in the study room, I often feel that everyone’s excitement has nothing to do with me. I can’t wait to rush into the crowd and shout that I’m dying alone. If there is a person, no matter who he is, just that he's willing to listen to me patiently, I would have held on to him with a death grip; a sad, loving and even desperate grip."

"But I can't tell anyone. No one wants to admit that they're lonely. They always put on a show to satisfy their pride. They show off their awesome life to others while crying behind closed doors. People are such strange creatures."

Xiao Yu lowered his eyes and grabbed Lin Yan's hand. He put it to his lips and kissed lightly, as if comforting.

Lin Yan turned his head silently. The children at the snack bar were making noise, and the street shop windows were covered with small heart-shaped papers of various colours. Lin Yan looked through a few of them, and some of them were written in highlighter about who they love and who they're waiting for. Some wrote blessings to pass the exam. They were notes of immaturity and youthfulness, the purest and most beautiful wishes.

Everyone had their own wish, whether it was simple or complicated. Their dissatisfaction with their lives making them write out their wishes on paper, hoping that one day the gods can see them. Lin Yan thought silently, people who don't know each other always shine brightly, but only when they are familiar with them do they know their weaknesses. Just look at him, his family was well-off and well educated, but he had never dared to admit that he didn't like girls; look at Yin Zhou, he's from a perfect family but only willing to be a prince in the virtual world; then there's A-Yan, who can't even be a normal person in the eyes of others. Lin Yan gave a wry smile, who would listen to their prayers?

Probably because of the high school student's whistleblower, a group of children at the next table were pointing at him. Someone said something about being a psychopath. Lin Yan smiled indifferently. He took a note from his pocket and wrote a line: "I hope I can successfully help Zhou Jintian find his father." He put the note under a piece of fluorescent paper with a heart drawn on it.

He heard about a child's wish today.

He, Yin Zhou, and A-Yan had snuck into the morgue to search for answers after finding the boy’s record. The old man at the door was basically deaf. Lin Yan yelled the three syllables of the kid's name so loudly and the old man didn’t hear him. A nurse doing some cleaning suddenly intervened and asked him if the child hadn't left yet. He put down the broom and said pitifully.

"I know that kid, his grandma and I are neighbours. His mother died a few years ago. His father was too busy with work to care for him. The child lived with his grandma. One time Jintian had a severe fever and his father came back to see him. Jintian never forgot about it. One day while his grandmother was not there, he fell off of a balcony on the third floor, thinking that his father would be able to accompany him to see a doctor if he fell. As a result, the child lived a short life. His internal organs ruptured and caused heavy bleeding, and he passed away after a few days after being sent to the hospital."

"The ashes are buried in the most expensive cemetery in our city. I went there on the day of the funeral. It's a pity that his father was on a business trip abroad. He didn't rush back to collect the body until two days after his son's death. He didn't see him in the end." The nurse sighed. "I heard that the child kept asking about why his father wasn't coming in his confusion. The doctor lied to him that he was already on his way. As a result, the child lay on the bed and looked out the window every day, and even kept his eyes open when he died."

This story made Lin Yan feel a little heartbroken, but A-Yan said that this kind of soul was easy to deal with. There was no resentment and didn't want to harm anyone. As long as he found the person he was obsessed with and burned paper in front of the grave and talked with him often, he should be gone. But the child’s ghost was the most simple and persistent. If that person didn't come, the child would turn into a grieving spirit after waiting for a long time, which was extremely difficult to deal with.

"G-Ghosts have more of a heart." A-Yan was rather lost when she said this.

Ding. Lin Yan's cell phone went off. Yin Zhou sent Zhou Mo's detailed address and contact information. He turned out to be a local, living in the most remote area of the city, about a three-hour drive away. Lin Yan swallowed the last bite of his spicy and sour noodles and threw the nuts in the soup into his mouth. He curled his lips and said to Xiao Yu: "Let's go. This time, the task is to help the kid find his father. It is much easier than dealing with you."

As he spoke, he grabbed his wrist and walked out, and couldn't help but blow a whistle and laugh as he drove, thinking that if only all the troubles were like today. No matter how bad his luck was lately, his family was always warmly affectionate.

Zhou Mo's family was at the fine line between the urban and rural areas. When he arrived at the destination indicated on his GPS, Lin Yan thought he had gone to the wrong place. In front of him was a rather imposing villa with a sign on the door of a European-style courtyard: private residence, outdoor surveillance. Lin Yan couldn't help being secretly stunned. For a man who owns such a house in this rich city, even if his child is hospitalized in the United States, he was rich enough to go back and forth every day. How could he not even get back to see his child for the last time?

He parked the car outside the courtyard. Lin Yan woke up Xiao Yu, who was dazed in the passenger seat, coaxed him and said: "I know you're upset when I drive you away, but this is something I need to do well, so don’t make trouble later, alright?" He leaned on the cushions and said casually: "I really understand the little boy's mood. When I was a child, my parents were also busy. I only go home once a week. I would cook my own food and sleep on my own. I was afraid of the dark and I always wanted my parents to suddenly come back."

"But I know my parents also missed me. Although they were busy, they didn't forget to buy a bunch of delicious foods every time they went home." Lin Yan changed his position and lay on his side, catching a strand of Xiao Yu's hair. He circled it around his fingers and said excitedly: "Although people and ghosts are different, a father-son reunion is always something to look forward to, right?"

Xiao Yu nodded. He pecked his lips on Lin Yan's face, and slowly said, "Let's go."

"Young Master Xiao, you're finally willing to talk to me. It's so hard to please you." Lin Yan muttered and opened the car door.

The owner’s yard was very delicately maintained, with various seasonal flowers in full bloom. He could smell the warm fragrance floating in the summer night while he waited outside the door. Not far away, there were many koi squeezed close to each other in a shallow pool, the sound of water splashing when they shook their heads and tails making people feel unspeakably calm and relaxed.

Lin Yan waited for a few minutes. A woman dressed as a nanny ran out of the villa and looked at him vigilantly through the hollow courtyard gate. Lin Yan explained that he had come because of Zhou Jintian, and the nanny ran back again. This time it took a full 20 minutes for the door to open. Lin Yan adjusted his shirt and walked across a path paved with pebbles. He rang the doorbell of the small building.

With a squeak, the Victorian-style heavy wooden door opened a gap, and a middle-aged man poked his head out of the door and hesitated: "You are?"

Lin Yan smiled politely: "My name is Lin Yan, a student at X University. You're Mr. Zhou, I came for your son Zhou Jintian." He said respectfully and handed over his student card. The owner checked in confusion, and after confirming that there was no problem, he opened the door a bit wider, but still had no intention of letting him in.

"My son just passed away some time ago. What do you want?"

Although it was backlit, Lin Yan still saw the typical businessman expression on the middle-aged man’s face; snobbishness, arrogance, and calculating. He only wore a purple bathrobe with a belt tied loosely around his waist. His chest was exposed and his body was slightly fat, but he could see that he had a good foundation when he was young. Now there was a bit of fat under his ears, so he didn't like to exercise, or his only exercise was golf.

A rich man covered in his armour.

"I'm sorry about your son. It's like this. I have a relative who's hospitalized in L Hospital. . ." The crystal ceiling lamp in the main hall of the villa was shining and blinding. Lin Yan tried to organize the thoughts in his mind, but the middle-aged man suddenly interrupted him. "You work somewhere, right? I paid all the money that should be paid to the school, the hospital and the cemetery bills have also been settled, and I don't owe anything to the commissary, so what are you doing here?"

Lin Yan hurriedly explained: "No, no, you misunderstand. It's not about money. I know this sounds ridiculous and you might not believe it, but your son's ghost is still in the hospital and he's waiting for you to visit him."

The middle-aged man's expression grew strange, and he held the doorknob as if he was about to close the door: "You're sick. What about my son's ghost? Jintian was buried long ago."

Lin Yan frowned. How could such a father exist? Hearing something about his son, even if it wasn't reliable, there was no way he could just immediately disregard it.

"This is the case; do you know why Jintian had an accident? He always felt sorry that you didn't get to see him before he died. Up to now, his soul has been unwilling to move on. He's attached to my relative's daughter waiting for you to come back. You may not understand, but a little girl being possessed by a ghost is in a dangerous situation." Lin Yan gesticulated anxiously: "Just like in the movies."

"If you don't go, Jintian's ghost will never be able to reincarnate. After a long period of time, not only will he suffer, but he may also harm others. When that time comes, for the safety of my relatives and her daughter, I'll have to disperse your son's soul." Lin Yan was in a cold sweat while talking. If he had said this kind of stuff a month ago, he would've thought he had brain damage. He thought he was cheating him out of some money, but what else could he say? Your son’s strong brainwaves caused a disorder in the hospital’s electromagnetic field, causing an innocent thirteen-year-old girl to develop hallucinations and die?

The middle-aged man frowned. He pulled his right hand back from the door frame and tightened the belt of the bathrobe: "Tell you what, I know about this. I’ve been busy lately. You can contact my secretary. Tell him how much money you want to send Jintian away, and I'll ask him to write a check."

"I said this has nothing to do with money. If you don't meet him, no money in the world could fix this!" Lin Yan really got angry this time. Was there something wrong with this guy's brain? How could he only think of money when it comes to his son?!

"Dad, what are you doing? Mom is calling you!" A five or six-year-old boy suddenly ran out from behind the middle-aged man, hugged his waist and acted like a baby. He saw Lin Yan standing at the door and started sucking his thumb, looking at Lin Yan with a pair of black grape-like eyes wide open. The middle-aged man lovingly picked up the child and placed him on his shoulders. When he looked at Lin Yan again, he put on an impatient expression.

"Who the hell do you think you are? Some mage? You're at my doorstep at night, talking nonsense, and I'm calling the police if you don't leave!"

"Who's been at the door for so long? Another bill collector? I've got no money, tell him to go the same way he came." The door was suddenly yanked open and a young woman in the purple bathrobe stood in front of Lin Yan with an imposing attitude. Her figure was slim, snowy breasts hidden behind a lace corset, and her sharp eyes were like a blade scraping Lin Yan.

Lin Yan's argument had been completely disrupted by the battle in front of him and he stammered: "Uh, I, I'm here about your son, Zhou Jintian. . ."

Before he could finish, the woman instantly changed her face and said in a high voice: "There's no end to this. How much money has been spent on the seed left behind by that yellow-faced woman? From the best hospitals to the most expensive graves; his son cut his own life short and didn't fight to survive, yet he's still shoving his way into our lives?" After speaking, the little boy was shoved in front of Lin Yan: "Okay, this is my son, he's the only one!"

After speaking, she didn't care about her husband's ugly face and slammed the door with a bang.

Lin Yan clenched his fists and stood in the dark doorway, chills in his heart.

He didn't know how he got back into the car, but when he looked out the window, he felt that the whole villa suddenly became ugly, and even the blooming roses in the yard looked like abscesses. He never believed that there were parents like this that existed. He thought that familial love was the warmest, strongest and most unshakable emotion in the world, but this time he really saw the indifference and coldness of the human heart.

Don’t test humanity, don’t, because it was simply unbearable. Lin Yan sat in the car seat and tried to slow his breathing, but his anger still grew, and all Xiao Yang's grieving and crying face appeared in front of him. How much did a child need to miss his father to have the courage to jump off of a third-story building? If his spirit in heaven knew what had unfolded here today, would he feel like his death was all for nothing?

Lin Yan slammed his fist heavily against the steering wheel.

A cold hand lightly touched his face. Lin Yan twisted his head and said hoarsely, "Xiao Yu, don't mess with me. I don't want to coax you now, I just want to beat someone up." He kicked the clutch hard and said: "Fuck this guy!"

Xiao Yu patiently tugged Lin Yan's wrist and wrenching his shoulder to make him face him. His eyes were vicious: "What do you want to do?"

"What can I do? Go back and let A-Yan find a way to make the little brat forget that he has a father!" Lin Yan gasped.

Xiao Yu shook his head, glanced at the outline of the villa in the night, and slowly said, "I'll do it."

"You mean. . ." Lin Yan looked at Xiao Yu blankly, and suddenly understood what he meant. After a long silence, he bit his lower lip and said, "Before this, I always thought I was kind, that there was nothing I couldn't bear, but. . ." Lin Yan stared at Xiao Yu: "I just want to be a fucking asshole! He deserves it!"

"Xiao Yu, I don't care what tactics you use. Before noon tomorrow, I want to see him come to the hospital to apologize to his son!" Lin Yan said viciously in the dark cab.

Xiao Yu squeezed his hand and whispered, "Don't worry."

#dig a grave to dig out a ghost translation #dig a grave to dig out a ghost #danmei novel #danmei #yaoi novel #yaoi #bl novel #chinese bl #chinese novel #english translation

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