#he probably breaks out a decoding machine at some point and is like 'this is for decoding your incoherent texts'

[callsign-daydream]

Bob: I go online sometimes but everyone’s spelling is really bad. It’s depressing.

[raisondetempete]

Monochrome Obsession (Yandere Wu Chang x Female Reader) Part I

There will be three parts, with the third part being a non-consensual lemon (I do not condone these actions). All the parts are finished, but the third part is not typed (I handwrote everything). I’m working up the courage to type it.

Edit: The third part is now out!

Edit 2: If you like my writing, check this out

I’m reposting this from my Wattpad so if you see it there, it’s not stolen. Story under line

Link to part II Hopefully I did this right

Link to part III

(y/n) - your name

(e/c) - eye colour

(f/g) - favorite genre

Character Index:

Margaretha - Female Dancer

Martha - Coordinator

Helena - The Mind’s Eye

Fiona - Priestess

Naib - Mercenary

Wu Chang - Black and White

Fan Wujiu - Black

Xie Bi’an - White

Aesop - Embalmer

Vera - Perfumer

Kevin - Cowboy

Andrew - Gravekeeper

Luca - “Prisoner”

You’ve been in the manor for about a month now. Although you’re no longer considered “new”, you don’t go into too many matches. Partly because you’re still inexperienced at matches but mostly because you’re anxiety peaks in matches.

There’s a match today and you’re determined to participate. Margaretha was supposed to participate in the match, but she sprained her ankle while practicing her dancing. So, Martha gathered everyone in the dining hall to decide who would replace her.

“Alright everyone,” Martha said, clapping her hands to get everyone’s attention. “As everyone knows, Margaretha is unable to participate in today's match. The other three survivors are Helena, Fiona, and Naib. Any survivor would do as the kiting, saving, and decoding roles are covered.” Determined to redeem yourself and to help calm your anxiety, you raise your hand.

“Umm… May I join?” you ask. Martha, slightly surprised, nods. “Just be a bit cautious as you’re still inexperienced.” Nodding, you signal that you understand. Walking over to Helena, you place your hand on her shoulder.

“Hey,” you say.

“Hi,” she responds in her usual quiet voice, “I’m surprised you volunteered to join today’s match.”

“I wanted to try and get over my anxiety.”

“I understand. I had the same problem when I first got here. I think everyone did. The anxiety lessens with experience.” After saying that, she squeezes your hand reassuringly.

“We have about an hour until the match begins. You should get ready,” she says. You thank her and go into your room to prepare for the match.

You were known as the Reader. Particularly good with decoding, you would probably become one of the best decoders in the roster with more experience. However, as you spend most of your time reading, you’re not very athletic. Plus, the book you carry with you is a bit heavy, so it weighs you down significantly. As a result, when a hunter comes by, you try to hide instead of running.

What's your ability? You can see the actions of everyone in the match, including the hunter, 10 seconds before it happens using the book you constantly tote around. Unfortunately, the book takes a while to recover so you can only use it every couple of minutes.

The hour before the match flies by quickly. As you walk to the matching room, you’re legs begin to shake.

“Deep breath in (y/n). Deep breath out (y/n),” you mutter yourself as you reach the room. Fiona and Helena are already seated. You take a seat in the middle of them.

“Where’s Naib?” You ask.

“He’s getting his elbow pads from his room,” Fiona replies, fiddling with her metal ring. You bob your head and engage in a conversation with the two while waiting for Naib to come back.

Naib soon comes back and sits in the chair closest to the door.

“The match will begin in thirty seconds,” The host’s voice booms from nowhere.

‘I guess the hunter was already here then. I wonder for how long?’ you wonder. A sound of glass breaking is heard and your vision goes black.

The sound of glass breaking is heard as your vision returns. It appears you’re by the pier in Lakeside Village. The sound of Helena’s cane is heard and you can vaguely see everyone’s outline. Apparently, the hunter is Wu Chang. You haven’t had any matches with him yet but you’ve heard stories from the other survivors. Wu Chang is made up of two people. The white version is more docile than other hunters and mostly patrols the area while the black version is incredibly aggressive. Due to the Black’s aggression and White’s huge hitbox, Wu Chang is a feared hunter among the survivors. You really don’t want to encounter him.

Before running over to the cipher machine nearby, you turn to see where everyone was. Helena is over by the shore cipher, decoding. Fiona is far behind you, working on the cipher within by the boatshed. Naib is in the cornfields. You open your book to see who the hunter will go after first.

Fiona is hurriedly decoding the boatshed cipher, wiping the sweat off her brow as she focuses, while Helena works on the shore cipher. Naib is working on the cornfield cipher but will quickly be interrupted by the smirking mercilessly Black form of Wu Chang.

You call out to Naib that the hunter is going to attack him, hoping that the winds present in Lakeside would carry your voice across the map. As you run to the cipher to begin decoding, you hear Naib call out a thank you. Unfortunately, Wu Chang must have also heard you because a bell sound is heard before Naib is hit.

“Crap,” you mutter to yourself.

“Don’t move! I’m coming!” Fiona calls out. A light bell sound is heard, meaning a cipher has been completed. Helena sure is fast. You continue decoding until a female scream is heard out. Fiona.

“Continue decoding!” she yells out. Helena hits her cane again, revealing Fiona chaired nearby. Naib, seeing you, runs over to you.

“Can you quickly heal me,” he asks, gesturing to the cuts on his arms. By the time you are able to heal him, Fiona likely has less than half a minute left before the rocket chair sends her back to the manor. Naib equips his elbow pads and dashes off. You continue decoding and finish the cipher. Unfortunately, it seems Naib wasn’t able to make it in time. Fiona’s screams as she blasts off are mingled with Naib’s as he is hit. Helena hits her cane once more, revealing Naib by the cornfields and Helena decoding the shack cipher by the shore. 

Your book has recovered by this point so you open it. 

Naib runs around the windmill by the shore door, heart beating wildly. Unfortunately for Naib, White teleports using his umbrella. Unwisely looking fearfully behind him, Naib runs headfirst into Black. Naib screams in terror as the grinning Black hits him.

“Naib!” you scream. “White is going to teleport to you when you go around the windmill!”

“Thanks (y/n)!” Naib yells back. You smile, happy with yourself that you helped in some way. You run to the barely started cornfield cipher and begin decoding. A light bell sound is heard, meaning Helena finished her cipher. Great! You were half done yours. Your happiness fades away seconds later as Naib screams as he is hit.

“Just a bit longer Naib! I’m almost done!” You call out. Helena hits her cane, revealing her by the ship exit gate and Naib limping in pain, Wu Chang right behind him. Before the vision of the two fades, you see Naib vault a window, thinking Wu Chang isn’t far behind him. Unluckily for Naib, it’s a slow vault. Wu Chang hits him as he’s vaulting, resulting in a terror shock.

“Keep decoding! I’m saving him!” Helena calls out.

“Helena! Don’t!” you scream out, only to be met with silence. You fearfully keep decoding, not knowing what else to do. A feminine scream pierces through the night soon after. You try decoding faster, hoping to at least assist Helena with Borrowed Time.

“Keep it up, Helena!” Naib shouts from his place in the chair. 

“I’m almost done decoding!” you also shout out into the night. Just as you're about to pop the last cipher, a bell sound is heard. Unfortunately, this one doesn’t mean someone's done decoding. Helena manages to hit her cane before being downed, almost as if she knew it was inevitable

“Come on… Come on…” you mutter, decoding faster than you’ve ever decoded before, not even checking if Helena was picked up. You finish decoding and a siren is heard.

“Yes!” you shout. A fizzing was heard.

“She was chaired!” Naib yells as he flies through the air. You freeze. It was just you and Helena left and Helena was already chaired. You don’t even know where the dungeon is. You hold onto the cipher, shaking intensely. This was exactly what you didn’t want to happen. No matter what you did, you were screwed. Maybe you could save if…

“The hunter has detention!” Helena calls out, interrupting your thoughts.

‘There goes that idea,’ You bitterly think to yourself.

“Don’t save me! Open the door!” she replies.

“But what about-”

“Just do it!” Helena’s usually calm and quiet demeanor is replaced by a firm tone. Begrudgingly, you head towards the cornfield door.

Just as you reach the door, you hear Helena’s terrified scream as she blasts off into the night. Trying to ignore your anxiety-ridden thoughts, you start entering the code for the door. A blast of red light besides you is your only clue to start running. You head into the cornfields, only looking back to see Black stalking after you, long hair blowing in the breeze behind him. You huddle in a corner of the field and bite down hard on your right hand in order for the scream bubbling up in your throat not to release.

Soon after you crouch, you hear the footsteps of Wu Chang near you, his eyes glowing a scarlet red. You dig your fingers hard into your palm to the point where blood is nearly drawn. That’s when he enters your vision. Black is walking vertically towards where you are crouching, sighing as he goes. In a couple seconds, he’ll be upon you. You hold your breath, not knowing what else to do.

Then, he looks directly at you. Your pounding heart stops as you see black spots in your vision.

‘I’m going to die. I’m going to die,’ you keep repeating in your head. Blood spurts from your hands from how hard you are biting/digging in to them. Black comes towards you and…

Completely ignores you.

He walks inches by you, his long braid almost hitting you in the face. You don’t dare to even turn your head to see where he is going. You only dare to move when the purple glow from your chest has completely disappeared. You run back to the cornfield gate and continue putting in the code. The gate quickly opens and you dash through. As you disappear into the night, one thought echoes in your head.

‘He saw me so why didn’t he down me?’

Over the next few months, you began to see Wu Chang in matches frequently, they being the most common hunter you see. Thus, when you were chosen for a match, everyone assumed the hunter would be Wu Chang.

As for your interactions with the Black and White hunter, they’ve been acting odd towards you. There’s only been one match where they’ve hit you. Instead, they would just stare at you for a bit before walking away. Even the bloody thirsty Black never made a move to hurt you.

The one time they hit you was about a month ago in the Red Church. There were three ciphers decided and you were the last survivor left. You tried looking for dungeon but quickly got crows. You started sprinting towards a random direction but White quickly found you. Scared, you tried to run in the opposite direction. Sighing, White hit you with his umbrella… well, “hit” isn’t the right word. He more bruised you on the arm, applying just enough force for you to be considered injured. You ran to the cemetery and hid. White quickly caught up to you, siphoning your soul. He stopped right before your soul was fully siphoned. Unfortunately, he was now right in front of you. He had “hit” you again on the other arm, making you downed. He picked you up carefully, as if he were holding an injured baby bird, and brought you to the open dungeon. He then let you struggle free from his arms. Before you had jumped into the dungeon, you let out a small “Thank you”.

Now, you’re lazing on your bed, reading a (f/g) book when there’s a knock on your door.

“Come in,” you softly call out. The door opens, revealing Aesop. Aesop has been your closest friend during your stay at the manor. You quickly bonded over your mutual social anxiety. Although you thought his fascination with dead bodies was weird at first, you eventually came to accept his interests. There was even a time when you thought you had heard him say that you were better than his dead bodies.

“What is it?” you question.

“We have a match with Vera and Kevin in ten minutes,” Aesop replies, gesturing to his embalming case.

“Let me just get my book,” you say. You run over to your bedside table, grab your book from its place on your bedside table, and run over to the waiting Aesop. You walk down together to the matching room.

When you both arrive to the table, Kevin is chatting animatedly to Vera, much to her annoyance. Trying to get away from the awkward situation, you and Aesop decide to sit as far away from the duo as possible. Seeing the two of you arrive, Kevin and Vera confirm into the match.

“Are you ready?” Aesop whispers into your ear.

“I think so,” you say, looking down at your slightly shaking hands. You still haven’t gotten over your nervousness in matches. Even Andrew and Luca have gotten over their original nervousness despite coming to the mansion after you. Aesop looks at you and squeezes your hand reassuringly. You look back at him but you can’t see his expression behind his mask. You both confirm. You hear glass breaking and your vision goes black.

When the sound of breaking once again reaches your ears, your vision returns. Looking around you, you realize the map you’re in is the Arms Factory. You shiver as an ominous feeling hits you in the face. This is your least favorite map. The eerie feeling emanating from the abandoned factory has always creeped you out. Today, however, it wasn’t the factory giving you the feeling of dread.

This match is no ordinary match.

You don’t know how you know this. It was just a gut feeling. You open your book to see where everyone has ended up.

Aesop is standing idly around in the factory, grey eyes darting around wildly. Once he sees the glowing cipher machine, he runs over to it and begins typing away. Vera is out in the open as she clacks away on the keyboard, running her hand through her brown hair as she does so. Kevin is decoding the cipher in the outside room, spitting onto the ground every now and then. Cackling, Wu Chang appears from the back left entrance, a smirk on their face growing ever wider.

“Kevin! Wu Chang is behind you!” you call out.

“Thanks baby girl,” Kevin coos from the distance. You repress a shudder and head into the factory to meet up with Aesop.

Aesop is already decoding when you get inside the factory. You run over to the cipher.

“Umm… is it okay if I decode with you?” you question. Aesop, being uncomfortable around others, has a slowing decoding speed when others decode with him.

“Yeah. My decoding stays normal with you because I’m comfortable around you,” Aesop replies. You beam at him as you begin decoding.

“Keep decoding. I’m going to place my coffin,” Aesop says. You nod as you continue decoding. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Aesop go out the door to the right of you. A loud grunt is heard from Kevin, signalling that he’s been hit. Aesop returns soon after and assists you with decoding. You both quickly finish decoding the cipher and decide to split up, with you going out the left door and Aesop going out the right.

You find a cipher out in the open and begin decoding. A nearby grunt fills the air, signalling Kevin just went down.

“I’ll be there in a second! Let me finish this cipher,” Vera’s voice pierces through the fog as she finishes her cipher. You then see her sprint across the plain in the direction of where Kevin’s yell came from.

“Keep it up Vera,” you encourage her as she runs past you. She shoots you a smile and keeps running. You hear the snaps of Kevin being chaired as a faint purple glow covers your chest. Taking that as your signal to leave, you run off to find a different cipher. When you’re running, you hear Vera’s scream.

“Good job getting terror shocked,” Kevin’s sarcastic voice carries through the mist.

“Shut up!” a very pissed off Vera snarls back as she’s taken away.

“Aesop, where are you!,” you call out as softly as you can.

“Over here,” a whisper to your right replies, so faint that you wouldn’t have heard it if you weren’t paying attention. You run over to the right where you find Aesop huddling behind a wall.

“I’m going to save Vera while you decode,” he mutters to you.

“Before you go, let me use my book so I can help you.” You open your book and begin to read aloud.

“Aesop is running to the chaired Vera, panting slightly as sweat trails down his temple. Kevin’s terrified shout fills the air as he flies into the air, doomed to another round of the accursed game. Aesop is almost within eyesight with the chaired Vera before getting hit by the White Guard. (y/n) has returned to her cipher only to find its been abnormaled, returning it to it to 25% decoded,” you read out.

There is a moment of tense silence before Aesop speaks.

“(y/n), I would suggest you do a cipher as far away from Vera and me as you can. Focus on decoding. There may be a way to get a tie,” Aesop rapidly tells you, his tone commanding.

“I understand. Go save Vera,” you sigh, feeling useless and worried for Aesop. Aesop squeezes your hand, noting your dark mood.

“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry,” he says before kissing you tenderly on the forehead before running off, leaving you gaping you gaping after him. What breaks you out of your stunned stupor is the feeling of the darkness around you increase tenfold.

“Aesop!” you call after him but he’s too far away for him to hear you. You sigh before you run to a far away cipher and begin decoding. While decoding, you hear Aesop getting hit before saving Vera. Vera is quickly downed and chaired.

“Thank you soooo much,” her bitter voice shouts as she blast off.

“Focus on decoding, (y/n),” Aesop calls out, his voice echoing through the foggy surroundings. You don’t respond, not wanting to give away your location.

You’re about halfway decoded when you hear someone getting hit fairly nearby. 

‘They’re probably not going to chair him as he placed his coffin,” you think, only to be quickly proven wrong when you hear the sound of someone being clipped into a chair.

‘Why…’ you think before you see the faint image of an umbrella flying through the air in the direction of the factory. They know where his coffin is!

“Aesop! Watch out!” You shout, not caring if Wu Chang hears you anymore. There’s a tense moment of silence before a blood curdling scream pierces through the silence, resulting in you missing a calibration in surprise. Aesop is a quiet person. What could cause him to scream like that? You once again hear the clanking of someone being placed into a chair. That’s odd. When Aesop comes of his coffin, he has the trait “Borrowed Time”, allowing survivors to go down for thirty seconds. The odd thing was that he went down almost immediately, something that shouldn’t happen…

You try to focus on your calibration. Unfortunately, due to you missing a calibration, you were ¾ decoded. With Aesop being chaired, you likely have half a minute at the most to decode.

“Aesop! Do you want me to come save you?” you call out. No reply.

“Aesop?” You nervously call out again as you decode, fear, cold as ice, spreading through you. Only the creaking of the factory answers you. You try to speed up your decoding but the knot of dread in your stomach easily distracts you. 

When you’re almost finished decoding, your heart begins to beat out of your chest. Literally. Not taking any chances, you hide behind a nearby wall. Footsteps approach the rapidly whirring cipher before a kick is heard and the whirring slows down to a near stop. Didn’t they just use abnormal? You check your book to see if it’s ready to be used again. There’s a minute left before you can use it. Your book and abnormal have the same cool down time so how come Wu Chang was able to abnormal your cipher?

It’s then you hear the distinct fizzing of a rocket chair blasting off. You’re doomed. As Aesop flies through the fog, you decide to run as far away from the cipher as you can. You quickly heard the slow pace of footsteps behind you. No matter where you ran, how far away you got from him, a strong purple glow remains around your heart, never wavering in the slightest. You were curious to see how far they were behind you so you looked back, only to run first into a… pair of legs? You fall to the ground, letting out a little squeak of pain when you hit the ground. Heart pounding wildly--and not because the hunter was close--, you look up. Black stands over you, purple eyes staring into your own (e/c) eyes.

He shoots you a smirk before purring, “Hello (y/n).”

“What the… I thought you were behind me,” you mutter, feeling numb from defeat. Black chuckles darkly before moving closer to you. You back up everytime he moves closer to you, making sure to keep your eyes on him so that he wouldn’t try to hit you when your back is turned. As he takes another step towards you, you take a step backwards only to run into another pair of legs. You confusedly staring at the still smirking Black in front of you before looking up, only for your heart to drop. White is looking down at you, his mouth forming a serene smile.

“Y-You two can-” “We can separate of course, my dear (y/n),” White cuts you off.

“M-My dear? What do you mean?” You question. Black gives you a grin.

“Angel, we’ve fallen in love with you,” Black declares. You mouth drops open. You slowly turn your head towards Black then back to White. White chuckles before clearing his throat.

“My name is Xie Bi’an and this is my friend Fan Wujiu,” White tells you.

“Umm… nice to meet you Shi.. Fa…” you stutter out, having trouble trouble with both of their names.

“I believe the survivors call us Black and White? You may call us that as you seem to have trouble pronouncing our names, love,” White replies to your feeble attempt.

“Back to business,” Black begins. “As we have fallen in love with you, we’ve decided to take you with us to the hunter’s side of the mansion.”

‘Is that even allowed?’ You wonder to yourself. 

“I’m sorry but I can’t go with you. I like being on the survivor’s side of the mansion with the others. Plus, I only just properly met you,” you hesitantly retort, trying to choose you words carefully as to not offend them. However, it seems your attempt was in vain as their eyes darken at your words.

“We’ve been in matches with you for months and you say you don’t know us?” White growls, hands gripping his clothes tightly in anger. 

“Do you honestly prefer the over us?” Black snarls as his lip curls up in disgust. Then, they both pause.

“Do you prefer him over us?” They menacingly mutter in unison.

“Who do you mean?” You question as you start to shake.

“That fucking Embalmer! I saw what he did to you,” Black spits out.

“Aesop? I don’t have any feelings for him…” you reply. But do you? It seems that the two of them notice your uncertainty as the dark aura around them grows in intensity. You look around for a way out of this tense situation. Fortunately, you see a window in the wall to the left of you. Hopefully the dungeon is nearby.

You step away from White towards the window and Black, causing him to raise an eyebrow. Without any warning, you sprint towards the wall and vault it, luckily getting a fast vault.

“I’m sorry but I don’t return your feelings!” you call behind you as you run away. White sighs as Black scales the window, scowling. You run behind a wall, making sure no one saw you. As your book is recharged, you open it.

(y/n) dashes towards the factory, pleading for luck to be on her side for once. Black and White are hot on her trail and rapidly gaining. (y/n) reaches the side of the factory and sees the open hatch.

You finish reading and eye the distance between you and the factory. According to the book, it’s likely you’ll be able to reach the dungeon before they catch up to you. Taking a deep breath before exhaling, you make a break for the factory. 

Your rapid footsteps are quickly accompanied by two sets of larger footsteps.

“(y/n), you’re making us rather angry. Please give up now,” White soothes you, as if he’s talking to a troublesome child.

“We won’t punish you… much,” Black sadistically laughs. You try not to let your anxiety take over you but it’s hard. You reach the outside of the factory and head to the right. Just like the book said, the hatch is in front of you! You begin to run over but fall to the ground as blue light, accompanied by a bell sound, reaches your feet. No! You try to quickly get up only to be scooped up by a strong pair of arms covered in black robes.

“Let me go!” you shout as your body flais around, desperate tears falling from your eyes. Black snickers before bringing his wildly grinning face to yours.

“Gotcha~” he purrs. Your eyes widen as you try to move your head away from his. Black only shakes his head and adjusting you in his arms so that he has a free hand. He takes your chin and brought you so close to him that your noses are almost touching. Being so close, you can’t help but admire his handsome appearance. His mostly ash-black skin contrast perfectly with the one patch of bone-white skin over his right eye. His glowing yellow eyes stare deeply into yours taking in every detail of your face just as you’re doing to him. When you’re finished looking at him, Black’s ever familiar smirk grows.

“Like what you see, Doll?” Black purrs, bringing his face, if it’s even possible, closer to yours. You let out a small squeak and blush slightly at the close proximity of the two of you.

“Angel, what a little seductress you are. Teasing me with that red face? How lewd of you. Well, I’ve been waiting for this for a long time,” the tall man murmurs half to you and half to himself. Before you can ask what he means, he smashes his lips on yours. Immediately, you begin to squirm, pursuing your hands against his chest. Black only laughs, the vibrations reverberating on your skin. After a minute or so, he pulls away, leaving you gasping for breath.

That was your first kiss. As you’re a naturally introverted person, you have few friends, much less a romantic relationship. To have something so special and important taken from you sends you further into an abyss of depression.

You feel a breath on your left ear as you’re transferred into another pair of arms.

“I have to agree with Fan. You are quite the hidden temptress. Making me so jealous as you give all your attention right in front of me,” White hums into your left ear before lightly blowing on it. You let out a squeak of surprise at the foreign feeling, causing an amused smile to appear on White’s face.

You peer at White between your eyelashes. He has the exact same facial features as Black, all the way down to the height of his cheekbones and the vibrant purple colour of his eyes. The only difference between the two is their skin colour is inverted. White’s skin is a bone-white colour except for the patch of ash-black skin over his left eye, the opposite side to Black’s patch.

White, noticing you watching him, laughs softly before gently taking your chin in his hand.

“You don’t know how envious I was when I saw Fan take your first kiss,” White whispers lightly to you. “I’ll have to be the first in taking something else then…” You blush scarlet at his implications. You wouldn’t have expected a comment like that from White. Black definitely but not White. Maybe he isn’t the person you thought he was.

White laughs airily at your confused expression before softly placing his lips on yours. The kiss is different than the kiss with Black. While Black was rough and sloppy with passion, White is soft and caring, effectively conveying his deep love for you. If you weren’t in your current situation, you would’ve enjoyed it. It’s hard not to become putty in his hands.

After a couple of seconds, White moves his lips away from yours, his glowing purple eyes boring into yours.

“Ah. It was even better than I imagined it to be,” White sighs.

“W-What are you going to do t-to me now,” you stutter, scared out of your mind. Black and White look at each other before turning back to you, wide grins on their faces.

“Doll, we’re following our original plan: taking you with us,” Black slyly purrs.

“I’m so happy, darling! We finally get to be together,” White cheers and clutches you closer to him, burying your face into his chest. However, he softens his grip once he realizes his white robe is getting wet. He pulls you away from his to see your red eyes and tears flowing down your (s/c) cheeks.

“Good job Xie. You made her cry,” Black groans, rolling his eyes before taking you from White.

“I-I don’t want to sob go with sob you,” You sob. Black and White’s eyes darken.

“Unfortunately for you, angel, you don’t really have a choice in the matter,” Black growls.

“Love, we can’t let you go. We love you too much,” White says, reaching out to reassuringly cup your face. You shy away. A look of hurt crosses his face as he retracts his hand.

You begin to struggle again, causing Black to groan.

“Angel, I didn’t want to do this to you,” Black sighs.

“What are you talking about?” you nervously ask as he carries you inside the factory to a series of pipes.

“This is going to hurt me a lot more than it hurts you,” Black murmurs before putting you on the ground, taking your head in his hands, and hitting your head against the pipes. Pain blossoms in your right temple as your vision fades into nothing.

You’re awakened by something shifting besides you. You open your eyes to find darkness. You try to feel besides out to find out what’s besides you only to find your right hand in a firm grip. Your eyes quickly adjust to the darkness and you turn your head to the right.

White’s sleeping face is inches from yours, softly blowing air onto you as he firmly clutches your hand. He’s dressed in white traditional Chinese pyjamas. You then feel a squeeze around your chest, making you turn your head to the left only to jolt in fear.

Black’s intense eyes stare deeply into yours, overseeing you. His arms are wrapped possessively around your chest. He’s wearing the same clothes as White except the colour is black instead of white. You open your mouth to scream, shout, or just to do anything to let them let you go or for someone to hear you and rescue you… well, you are, presumably, on the hunter’s side of the manor. None of them would ever even think about helping you.

Black unwraps an arm from around you and covers your mouth with his hand.

“Shh. You wouldn’t want to wake him up. Plus, I want more time alone with you,” Black huskily whispers into your ear, resulting in you letting out a muffled squeak. You hear a low chuckle behind you as two arms wrap around your waist. 

“I was already awake, love. I was simply enjoying your presence beside me,” White murmurs into your other ear. Black removes his hand as you open your mouth to speak. 

“Umm… may I have some personal space?” you question.

“No,” they reply in unison, instead hugging you tighter.

“Darling, why don’t you just enjoy our time together?” White murmurs into the crook of your neck.

“There’s no chance of you escaping us,” Black purrs, his chin resting on top of your head. 

“After all,” they say in unison.

“We love you”

[chekovs-fuckup]

100 Homestuck Headcanons Of Mine

Both Meulin and Nepeta say “hewwo” unironically. They can also replicate the OwO and UwU faces near perfectly.

Roxy loves Five Nights At Freddie’s, Undertale, and Minecraft.

The Striders and Lalondes have a group Minecraft server.

One time Roxy convinced Rose to play Halo with her, Dirk, and Dave. That was when they found out Rose was surprisingly good at it, and Fortnite.

The trolls all love Animal Crossing

Actually, everyone loves Animal Crossing.

The Mayor is the only one who had Raymond. That is because Dave gave him Raymond.

Everyone else wants Raymond.

Vriska stabbed someone for Raymond. She didn’t get Raymond.

The Harley-English-Egbert-Crocker family have a group Minecraft server, and that’s it.

They tend to spend their free time seeing what whacky things they can alchemize.

At one point they managed to alchemize Captain America’s shield. No one is sure how, but it works.

Roxy and Dirk can both eat whole ghost peppers. Rose and Dave both hate spicy food.

Jane doesn’t mind spicy things but prefers sweet stuff instead. John and Jake are fine with a little spice but not as much as Roxy and Dirk. Jade can’t have anything spicy or she will get extremely sick.

Spicy peppers, and peppers in general, are lethal to trolls, due to the capsicum in them. The first time Karkat and Kanaya saw Dirk and Roxy eating peppers they freaked out.

Dirk and Roxy have occasional competitions to see who can eat the most peppers in a minute. It’s hilarious.

Karkat learned the Alternia equivalent of an Earth ukulele before the game. He remembers one song from it and occasionally borrows Jake’s ukulele to play it when he’s sad.

Jake, Jade, Jane, and John have every musical instrument you could name, and some you couldn’t.

Jake can play the ukulele and bagpipes. Jane can play piano and keytar. Alongside bass, Jade can play the trumpet and otamatone. John can play guitar and saxophone.

Dirk can play the otamatone. That’s it.

Roxy keeps requesting that Jade alchemize cats. She has about 30 by now.

Roxy gave Dave a cat. He named him Skittles, and claims it’s completely ironic.

Dirk also has a cat, named Twilight Sparkle

Rose has a cat named Cthulhu.

Jake has a parrot named Indiana Jones

Jade now has a corgi named Thor.

John managed to get Jade to help him alchemize a dragon. It’s name is Fluffernutter.

Jane is a master at anything kitchen-y. Jake and John both burn water. Jade can cook stuff but prefers take out.

Roxy knows how to make grilled cheese and soup really well, and Dirk is good with a grill but that’s it.

Rose makes the best hot chocolate, tea, and coffee. Any drink you want, she can make. She can’t cook anything though.

Alternatively, Kanaya is an excellent cook but thinks that mixing Dr. Pepper, Sprite, and Faygo together is good.

Kanaya has mixed every soda the kids could find together before. Dirk paid John $30 to drink it. John did.

“If you open a banana from the bottom you are a disgrace to the world and we all know you’re a top who can’t find a bottom.”- Rose, Kanaya, Jade, Vriska

“Opening a banana from the bottom lets you have the most banana without eating the weird thing at the end of it”- Dirk, John, Jane, Karkat

“Why bother peeling bananas when you can just eat them whole?”- Jake, Dave, Terezi

One time John used the Mayor’s cuteness to get Jane to bake him a cake. Dave found out and was pissed.

Dave convinced Rose to knit the mayor a sweater.

The mayor loves Doritos. He always gets the last one in the bag.

Kanaya loves mixing different types of one kind of food or drink. She has mixed all the candy in the house, much to the delight of most everyone, has mixed all the soda (it now lives in the back of the fridge for when they play truth or dare) and has mixed all the cereal in the house, much to the irritation of Roxy and Rose.

Dave ate a handful of Kanaya’s cereal mix because Dirk said he wouldn’t.

Has read Twilight: Rose, Roxy

Hasn’t read Twilight: Jade, Jane, John

Doesn’t know what Twilight is: Mayor, Calliope, Karkat, Jake

Hates Twilight: Dave

Vocally anti-twilight but secretly wrote and published a 100k fanfic: Dirk

Can swim: Rose, Roxy, Dirk, Jake, Jade

Can’t swim: John, Calliope, Jane

Hates bodies of water: Dave

Trolls don’t have grey skin, they have grey fur.

Said fur poofs up when the trolls are scared as a defense mechanism, like a cat. But instead of being fluffy, it’s spiky and sharp. Trying to punch a fluffed up troll ends badly.

If you mix Faygo and sopor slime you get the troll equivalent of weed.

Calliope found archery and axe-throwing, and is wonderful at both.

Dave convinced Rose to knit a sweater for the Mayor.

Cereal before milk: Rose, Roxy, Jane

Milk before cereal: Jake, John, Jade

“Just eat the cereal dry, cowards”: Dave, Dirk

Dave had a popular Vine account

Karkat does not understand the term Yeet.

Instead of saying “Yeet” Rose says “defenestrate”

Roxy has a Tumblr account filled with things their group has said.

Kanaya has designed outfits based around pride flags for everyone.

Dave likes Mindless Self Indulgence and My Chemical Romance

Calliope likes Fall Out Boy

John listens to twenty one pilots a lot

Dave also likes cavetown

Kanaya loves girl in red

The beta trolls ancestors can change their size.

The Grand Highblood and the Condesce shifted to a larger size permanently to intimidate other trolls.

Some don’t use it as much, or at all, like the Dolorosa, the Signless, or Neophyte Redglare.

Dualscar uses it to ease travel or to win fights, and will grow to extreme sizes so he can get through the water faster. It’s also ten times easier to sink ships.

The Psiionic couldn’t use the power once he became the Helmsman.

Darkleer uses it to grow smaller, so he can work on the small, delicate parts of his inventions.

Carapacians grow weed as a crop. For them, it’s their main source of food. For humans, it’s weed. It’s poisonous to trolls.

Sea dwellers’ lusii die more frequently (possibly due to the eldritch being at the bottom of the ocean), so they started letting older sea dwellers adopt sea dwellers that aren’t really old enough to survive without a lusus.

How many sweeps a troll is can be equated to human years, but when compared to other blood castes it becomes very skewed. A sweep equals roughly two human years, but different blood castes view this differently. Rust bloods, bronze bloods, and gold bloods all live fairly short lives, so 7 sweeps is roughly half their life span. Lime bloods and jade bloods all view 7 sweeps as being a bit like their early twenties. Teal and cerulean bloods would consider 7 sweeps to be roughly 13 or 14. Cobalt and purple bloods would see 7 sweeps as maybe being 6 or 7. Violet and fuschia bloods live for thousands of years, so legally and when comparing life experience to other fuschia/violet bloods, 7 sweeps is basically a very young toddler. This is just how each caste views age internally, given that they have different lifespans. 7 sweeps is roughly 13 or 14 in human years. This is explained badly but it’s also an alien concept put into English.

Teal and cerulean bloods have the closest lifespan to humans.

Dealing with eldritch beings shortens your lifespan because of the toll it takes on your body. This means that if Rose never reached godtier she would have died earlier than she was supposed to. This also means that if Eridan wasn’t chainsawed in half he probably would have had the lifespan of a purple blood or blueblood.

An ahab crosshairs or whatever can be really deadly in certain situations, but outside of that it’s basically useless.

The one time Dave met Kankri, he decided to put all of Mindless Self Indulgence’s songs on shuffle and play whatever came on first to Kankri. It was ‘Stupid MF’. Kankri flipped his shit and Dave is no longer allowed near him.

Meenah turned it into a game to see who could get the loudest reaction from Kankri by playing an MSI song. So far the winners have been 1. Vriska with ‘Faggot’, 2. Cronus with ‘Bitches’, and 3. Meenah with “Fuck Machine’. Honorable mentions include ‘Get It Up’, ‘Big Poppa’, and ‘Dickface’.

The honorable mentions change constantly

The game is ridiculously easy to win, given that most MSI songs are A) about sex, B) have slurs in them, C) are just really offensive in general, or D) all of the above.

To win the game you record Kankri’s reaction to the song and upload it to a forum on pesterchum.

Kankri is unaware there is a game.

Cronus repeatedly hits on everyone he meets. There are two people who he’s stopped flirting with, though.

The first one is Vriska. The first time he flirted with her she kicked him in the balls. The next time she stabbed him. He stopped trying after that.

The other one is John. He kept comparing Cronus to people from late 20th century movies with greasers in them.

Roxy loves riot grrrl bands.

Roxy, Sollux, John, and Karkat started a coding club. Roxy and Sollux help Karkat and John get better at coding, and also challenge each other to break into more and more ridiculous places.

At one point, using the codes that let Roxy and Dirk talk to Jake and Jane, Roxy and Sollux were able to hack into different government websites in different universes.

This includes the Pentagon, the FBI, and the CIA. They figured out how to get news live from the other universes, so occasionally they invite their friends over and watch a different world panic.

They end up doing internet troll stuff once in the websites. They’ll leave things equating to “aliens from another universe were here” and shit. They’ll make it so every time the website is open the screen turns pink or red and blue.

One time they left a picture of a message in Alternian. When the feds decoded the message, it just said “2ollux and Roxy were here. 2ucker2.”

One time they replaced all the photos of people with badly photoshopped versions of the photos where all the faces had been replaced by either Nic Cage’s face or Danny Devito’s face.

When they aren’t breaking into government websites, Roxy and Sollux will set up firewalls for the other to try and get past.

Aradia and Federico bleached Eridan’s hair while he slept, and cut it short. They also put pink bows on his horns. Just because.

Because Sollux can hear voices of the imminently deceased/is basically half dead, and Aradia has a strong connection to death, they were able to manipulate this so they could communicate telepathically. It takes focus, but they can do it.

Dirk knows Japanese, and can understand Damara. He is the only one who can.

They have inside jokes about everyone they know

Vriska found 5 or 6 doomed versions of herself and brought them back to life. They live in a shared hive and use the fact that they are all various Vriskas to prank people to an extreme. The only one who know whats happening outside of them is Terezi, because A) seer, and B) the one who gave John the list of things to do was brought back as well and told her.

[seeksstaronmewni]

Samurai Jack Season 5 in Review: EPISODE XCVI

Things can change greatly when one is open enough to see the truth.

As the episode’s TV spot promoted (as with earlier TV spots for the season in general), it’s time for the Scotsman episode of Season 5! Enough said.

NOW, as the Scotsman proclaimed, “NOW we... CHAAAAAAAAAAAAARGE!!!!!”

This’s the first episode in Season 5 to be rated TV-PG-V (for “moderate” violence), although it’s not really that violent. It clearly could be TV-Y7-FV, but I guess that Cartoon Network is concerned about easily imitable violence such as kicking and punching (unlike Disney Channel/Disney XD), so it may never be TV-Y7 again.

NOTE: Obviously, I started working on this post on Memorial Day of 2020 in honor of our dear Scotsman. Anyway, I’m curious as to what was going on with the Scotsman’s family and what they were plotting, during the time that we’re focusing on Jack and Ashi... but we still have 40 episodes to come until the series is complete. I was too busy or lazy to finish the post before the end of the day or month (for that matter, I was mostly inactive on it for 6 months), but I’m slowly back on it, so WACH’OUT!

We start with Aku’s place... which appears much more barren than it was in EPISODE I. The episode is another Andrews-Tartakovsky duo-boarding. Just the sound of wind, but no mist full of demons for some reason. Perhaps some bombing or missile attack cleared Aku’s yard?

A tank rolls over to the edge of Aku’s yard. A soldier within signals the other tanks to advance with his horn. These tanks are designed by the late and great Chris Reccardi and @heydusty​.

The camera streaks further back to reveal another army of men riding a 20-legged, rhino-like creature, in armor similar to the exterior of the tanks. He signals his army with his horn, too.

How about another army, then?

Signaled by a woman with her bagpipes, she leads her army...

a whole army of women

Talk about girl power... compared to The Powerpuff Girls, which stopped in 2019 and wasn’t nostalgically correct enough for the last 3 seasons anyway.

Whichever one I find most attractive all depends on which hairstyle looks most attractive... like the one in the bottom right corner. Aside from that, they pretty much all look and sound the same.

The sound of wheels grows audible. Who is that man in the wheelchair?

He has a machine gun for his left leg. Slowly, the camera, defocused except on his leg, eases out.

“Ha ha! We found him!”

It is, indeed, the Scotsman. The hype-inducing Scotsman!

And he’s pretty much ready to fight!

Well... except for one thing...

“I take you out for a day of battle, and you’re dressed like you’re goin’ dancin’!”

She’s kind of bashful. Isn’t she, Scotsman?

Flora was apparently out of appropriate uniform... not that it’s the time for dancing, or dance-fighting, however they intended to take Aku down face-to-face. She looks kind of hot, but this’s not the time to be thinking about fashion or a sultry appearance.

“That goes for all of you.”

“Cover yourself!” the Scotsman yells; “You’ll catch your death of cold!” He definitely cares about his daughters--I know not how many he has, but it’s an army’s worth--but I don’t think that they’re really cold at all.

What season is it, anyway?

(Oh, and, for the shot above, Flora has tiny dot eyes X3)

“Now”, the Scotsman proclaims, “we... CHAAAAAAAAAAAAARGE!”

“EYAAAAHHHHH” he shouts excitedly, as Flora drives him into battle.

The Scotsman’s army rolls into battle, firing with some nicely-colored smoke.

*p-powaa-p-p-powaa-powaa-p-powaa-aa*

Yep. There’s that more familiar Universal/Hanna-Barbera explosion, like one would hear in Seasons 1-6 of The Powerpuff Girls, serving as the sole sound effect for this shot and repeating itself. Joel Valentine’s uses of these classic explosions are probably different from those on Sound Ideas’ Universal & H-B sound libraries as these’re cleaner in quality.

The armored creatures apparently shoot some pretty hot snot out of their trunks, leaving us to wonder what this particular animal ultimately is. That classic Anime whistle (kind of sounds like “SHELL SCREAMING WHINE DOWN”) becomes audible as the bunch of hot snot falls toward Aku’s place.

“It seems we are under attack”, Aku overhears. “Under attack?” Aku highlights, beginning to consider use for this opportunity as he slowly stretches his beard. Aku takes a peek at the war through his own kind of TV or something. “Perhaps annihilating this scum will break me out of my...

me-lai-i-i-i-i-se.” Aku streak immediately upward.

Meanwhile, the Scotsman was firing HIS LEG gun... (footage that the last TV spot advertised for the coming of Season 5 in March, well before this episode itself was advertised, also showing the same footage)

Not sure at what HIS LEG gun was firing, since Aku wasn’t out, until...

*bwssss! wb-wb-wb-wb!*

...Aku rockets out of his place...

...trailing blazing fire as he turns into a giant ball...

...bowling his way over all of the tanks. The armored creatures on which 1/3 of the army rides are next!

“You know what?” The Scotsman said, come to his senses. “This was a bad idea! Time to go, girls.” Protective of his many daughters,  the Scotsman knew what to do in such a disastrous moment: “I’ll stall him while you escape.”

“I’m sorry, old man; I think you are lost.”

Just as Aku was about to make the annihilation complete, a voice froze him: “Hold it! You’re not goin’ anywhere, you big buffoon”. Not knowing who this guy was at all, Aku looked down upon him... and he seemed pretty serious, even though he met not this guy before at all.

“The samurai is still out there, inspirin’ people by the thousands!”

“I ain’t lost, y’ tree ogre!” The Scotsman talked back, pushing his insults further and further. “After all these years, you’re powerless against him... afraid to show yourself ‘cause you know he’s out there, and you can’t do anything about it!”

“Ah ha ha! You’re just a big baby! Why don’t you go cry to your mama--”

Aku was not in the mood for being “roasted”.

*wshiiiiiing*

A third of a sword flung out of the explosion.

Aku burned him.

*psst*

Aku burned him good.

Those catchlight-y eyes don’t lie, Flora.

OK; “highlights” would be the more common term.

This’s why I began writing this post on Memorial Day 2020.

When you roast Aku, Aku roasts you back.

“Why did he bring, up, the samurai?”

A relative question: If Aku cares no longer, what else has Aku to do with his life? Must he be evil? Some centuries worth since he started ruling... I guess that the Scotsman was just trying to make Aku upset, when he could speak a better conversation than mostly insult him.

Flora stabs the remainder of the sword into the ground by his ashes. There is some inscription on it that should be interesting to decode. I wonder if there’s an Easter egg in its words...

“I be back--and in me prime, no less!”

BOOM! Souls don’t die! Of course, rather than probably being in Heaven, he’s more of a ghost who’s still able and willing... by Celtic magic, which apparently connects to the inscription on his very sacred sword. “We’ll find Jack” he plots, “and finally defeat that BIG BABY!”

Anyways... one night, probably very far away from wherever Aku’s place is, Ashi was doing some thinking.

She grew up with her mom, who claimed that Aku created everything, but now she met Jack, who told her that Aku had the world ravaged.

Ashi was raised to believe that “The samurai is the poison killing the land”... as if Aku even cared at that point; she never even met Aku. Jack’s wisdom begat conflict in her mind: “If you... let go of (your) hate, you will see the truth.”

At least it’s an otherwise peacful night.

Well. It was.

“I have questions, mother.”

Ashi began to hallucinate (or it was some kind of weird fever dream... I know not) as the moon turned into her mother’s mask. “The samurai sleeps”, she slips through her mouth. “Kill him in his slumber before he wakes!”

“How DARE you?!”

I suppose this’s what comes of wishing for the moon.

Ashi was not ready to act on instinct as this samurai saved her life, but her vision was merciless. She had questions (and had the... moon failed??? Well not the moon, just her mom), and frankly one could question if she or her mother knew who exactly the samurai was and what he looked like. She was apparently secluded from the rest of society and we know little of her life growing up, so of course she’d have questions.

From there, that very island, Ashi’s journey began, and the next morning Jack found a sea dragon to continue the journey.

Although the dolphin chirps act as a faint, echo-y sound in the scene, they stand out as more unique recording than the stereotypical Hollywood Edge recordings one would hear pretty much everywhere else, like in Spongebob or whatever.

The sea dragon submerges into the ocean and makes a giant leap into the sky! Not sure why, but it probably got them closer to land.

ANIME LINES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It might not seem too noticeable, but the animation right here looks a bit... tight/slow-paced or whatever. Korean animation’s been thinning out on ln-betweens since, like 2016 for some reason, but they still put more effort on this Cartoon Network Studios project than most right now.

“I shall not forget your kindness.”

The sea dragon gives him a snort and a roar of... gratitude?

Jack and Ashi finally made it to a bigger land (and probably not just a bigger island). Now where would they go from here?

“Goodbye.”

It looks like Jack was just going to part ways.

I’ll continue working on this post later, preferably/almost daily if not weekly. (I’ve just been very slow mentally and more autistic this year than I ever realized)

[ayawriter]

Fever

Characters: Naib&Friends

Summary: Naib falls ill, but decides to deal with it on his own (re: suck it up and ignore it until after matches were over) This causes some complications once he actually participates in a match, and puts his relationships and values into question.

The dining hall was alive with noise, yet none of it reached his ears. Naib silently picked at his food, letting the buzz of conversation wash over him as he slowly lost his appetite. Everything was too loud, and his body was stuck in between feeling fine, and feeling achy. Same with his headache.

“Yo, Naib, you gonna eat that?”

“Hm.”

Naib pushed his plate towards the Forward before standing up, closing his eyes to keep himself from getting dizzy. He opens his eyes and starts to leave when he was called out by a concerned doctor.

“Wait, Mr. Subedar! You’ve barely eaten anything, are you feeling alright?”

Naib huffed inaudibly. He wanted to get back to his room quickly, and sleep until match time. His ears felt stuffed with cotton, his body felt like it was in freezing snow and on fire at the same time, and his nerves were on high alert, throwing his senses into overdrive. He felt before he saw Emily reach out toward him.

“Don’t touch me!” Before he could register what was happening, he had already slapped Emily’s hand away from himself.

The entire dining hall went silent, staring at the two. Naib struggled to keep his breathing in check. Stumbling backwards, he mumbled a quick apology before disappearing towards his room.

The lawyer was the first one to break the silence.

“Hmph. At least it’s finally gotten quiet.”

Emma glanced worriedly at Emily as the doctor sat back down in her seat beside the gardener. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I am not hurt. Please, do not worry.”

William, who had turned back to his food at that point, chimed in, “Still, it’s not like him to react like that to anyone, especially someone like Dr. Dyer. I mean, he’s always been kinda spiky, but he never lashed out like that before.”

Martha hummed in thought. “Perhaps It’s stress? He has been participating in the games almost every chance he gets. Which, I’m all for the enthusiasm, but I’m worried he’s going to burn himself out at this rate. Or work himself sick.”

Slowly the noise returned to its previous level, but there was now a tense atmosphere as the survivors worried over their fellow comrade.

—

Naib kept a steady pace back to his room, one hand on the wall to keep himself steady. He sighed. He shouldn’t have reacted like that. Emily was only worried. He’ll have to apologize later.

“Oof.”

“Ah!”

So lost in his own thoughts, Naib didn’t notice the figure rounding the corner. They collided, bouncing off each other and falling on their butts.

“S-sorry…”

Naib looked up once the dizziness subsided to find Aesop’s concerned face staring back at him. Surprisingly, the embalmer was the first to recover. He held out his hand. Naib grabbed it and was helped up.

“Nah, it was my fault. I wasn’t paying attention. Thanks.”

Aesop mumbled a “no problem” and another apology before speeding off. Probably towards the dining hall. Once he turned the corner, Naib started his walk back to his room. He locked the door and flopped down onto the sheets, he didn’t bother taking off his boots or untying his hair. As soon as his body touched the sheets, he was out.

—

   He didn’t know how long he was asleep for before he woke up to an incessant amount of knocking on his door. He groaned, half from being woken up, and half from how sore his body was. He shivered. Was it always this cold in here? Naib opened his door, glaring daggers at whoever it was that woke him. God, his head hurt.

   “Oh, you’re awake.”

   It was the seer.

   “The matching is about to start. I was just wanting to check up on you and make sure you were ready.”

   Despite the smile on his face, Eli was studying Naib with an intense gaze through his blindfold. He didn’t have to rely on his seer abilities to guess that Naib wasn’t in the best shape to be participating in any matches. The mercenary wasn’t necessarily close to other survivors, but the seer had somehow proved himself to be a trustworthy fellow, and maybe even could be considered one of the mercenary’s closest friends.

   “Sure. Just give me a sec.”

   The mercenary left the door to grab his elbow pads before leaving his room and closing the door behind him. He turned to Eli, nodding, and they both made their way towards the matching room. Naib involuntarily shivered again, which did not go unnoticed by Eli. There was a reason he was one of Naib’s best friends.

   “Cold?”

   Naib jumped, which made the seer frown in concern. It was the same as the incident from breakfast. Naib may have a heightened sense of danger, but he was never jumpy, and he never lashed out, unless provoked.

   “What? No. Besides, how can I be cold if it’s already so hot?”

   Hot? Now something was definitely wrong. First the jumpiness, then the shivers, then the claims of the mansion being hot. Sure, it may not be the coolest, but it surely wasn’t as sweltering as Naib seemed to think it was, nor was it cold. Right as they were about to enter the matching room, Eli grabbed Naib’s wrist, pulling him close and placing his other hand onto the mercenary’s face. He wasn’t burning with a fever like he originally thought, but Naib was still too warm to be healthy. There was even a light blush on his cheeks, though whether it was from embarrassment or sickness he wasn’t sure. Eli was struck with a sudden feeling of foreboding.

“Naib,” he started, “I think you should sit this one out. Don’t volunteer. Or if you are chosen, switch with another survivor.”

“…Is it another one of your ‘premonitions’?”

Eli smiled wryly. “I guess you could say that. But it’s more of a gut feeling. You know I can’t exactly “see” anything at the moment.”

Naib studied him for a moment, acknowledging his comments with a hum before opening his mouth.

“I’ll…I’ll think about it.”

Eli watched him walk through the doors into the matching room. With a sigh, he walked in after him, hoping Naib would take his advice. Though he already knew the answer to that.

—

The match started with little incident. As he suspected, Naib ended up participating in the match, ignoring Eli’s warnings, taking the place of Tracy, who had injured her wrist while working on one of her projects, making her decoding skills useless. The final team ended up being Aesop, William, Naib, and Eli.

[Focus on decoding!]

Messages pinged from all directions, and Eli set to work on a cipher nearby. Today’s match was in the Red Church with the Gamekeeper. Eli bit his lip, barely catching one of the calibrations. This is going to be rough. Especially with Naib in his weakened state…A low hoot alerted the Seer of his owl’s return.

“Welcome back, my friend. I’m sorry for giving you so much work, but do you think you can check on Naib for a moment?”

With a nod, the owl took off in the direction of the Mercenary. Meanwhile, Naib was feeling miserable. He started nearby the small hut, which he was thankful for, since it was a strong kiting area. Unfortunately, he kept missing calibration after calibration, which lead the Hunter straight to him.

[The hunter is near me!]

Naib sent the message just as he was about to get hit. Fortunately Eli’s trusty owl had swooped in just in time to block the first hit. Naib sent out a quick message of gratitude, preparing to dash towards the next kiting area when the world started spinning. He had used his dash as usual, but it left him feeling nauseous and forced him to stop and heave. His body was burning, and his shivering became more pronounced.

‘Damn, I can’t stop here. Still got three ciphers left and Bane’s going to catch up any time!’

Naib somehow willed his body to keep his food down and keep running, his breath coming out more like gasps. His body felt like lead. Everything was losing color. The hunter was close enough that he could see the red shadow of his gaze. His heart pounded a vibrant mix of purple and red.  

“Shit–”

Bane’s hook got caught in his hood, pulling him back and forcing him to take a hit. The force of the pull and the blow from the same hook knocked out all the air in his lungs, and caused his to make flips. Before he could register what was happening, he was on his knees, throwing up what little breakfast he had.

Bane froze, stunned. Survivors didn’t usually go down like that when he hit them, especially the Mercenary, who usually takes a few seconds to register the attack completely. Something was definitely up. Somewhat panicked, he decided to try and seek for the other survivors for help.

—

Eli sighed in relief as he was able to block the incoming attack from the Gamekeeper at the last second. He ignored the brief headache caused from taking a hit from a hunter, and continued decoding his cipher. He welcomed the owl back with a good job and a small pat on the head, and popped the machine. In the distance another cipher lit up upon completion. Only three more to go. Only three more to go. Alright, now to go find Naib. Sure the Seer was able to block one attack, but the Mercenary was sick. Eli needed to be there to support him. He immediately left in search of his friend when another cipher popped. Only two more left. He pinged a message to the other two and quickened his pace. A gong sounded.

“Naib!”

Said male’s icon had slowly started to fill up. Eli only prayed he would make it in time. His heart pounded. Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Eli almost froze when he saw the hunter approach him, but something was different. The gut feeling came back. The gauge was now completely up to half, showing Naib’s status as “wounded”.

“Eli.”

Strange. The Gamekeeper never used the survivors’ names unless they were outside of the match. Something must have happened.

“Bane, did something happen? Where’s Naib?”

Bane didn’t answer, only motioned for him to follow urgently. Eli didn’t waste any time to comply. He was led to an area where Naib often liked to do his chases.

“Oh god.”

Naib was sitting, leaning heavily against the wall. There was a puddle of bile nearby. The Seer tried not to look, focusing on the unconscious Mercenary. He dropped to his knees, putting a hand to his forehead. He was burning up. Nothing like the slightly warm sensation from before the match. He grit his teeth.

“I told you…Damn it, you’re such an idiot.”

A cipher popped in the distance. Eli and Bane looked at each other, the hunter nodding.

“I still have about a hundred seconds before I can surrender. I suggest you gather your comrades and tell them the situation.”

“Thank you, Bane.”

The hunter nodded.

[Cipher machine primed!]

[Follow me!]

Eli spammed the message in response to William’s own, never once keeping his gaze off his ill friend. It took a while but William and Aesop finally arrived.

“Hey, what’s going on–Holy shit, Gamekeeper! Eli, run!” William ran to tackle the hunter, but was easily evaded.

“Will, stop, now’s not the time.”

“…Naib?”

Aesop’s quiet voice was muffled, but the surprise and concern was clear. He had silently joined the group in the short commotion. William turned and almost did a double take.

“Is…Is he okay–I mean–obviously he’s not–but, like…” William trailed off, but his question was clear.

Eli shook his head, “I’m fairly certain this isn’t anything serious, just a high fever and coughing. He may have also been suffering a bit from nausea.”

After a bout of silence, Ban finally spoke up, “The cooldown’s up. It’s your win.”

“Thank you again, Bane.”

“A match with an ill player is not worth playing,” he eyed the mercenary, currently being held by the Forward. “Next time, lock him up in his room or something before he does something stupid like this. We hunters may not be able to kill you, but things outside of the control of matches can. I shall hunt you when all players are healthy.”

And with that, a message popped up along with Bane’s disappearance, signifying the surrender. The four were transported back to the manor.

“Oh, welcome, back–Oh!”

Emma was the first to greet them, dropping some flowers she had picked from the garden in shock.    “I-I’ll go get Emily right away!”

The four headed to the makeshift “med-bay”, which was really just a large guest room with many beds. William gently laid the Mercenary down on one of the beds. Naib’s face was flushed, his hair sticking to his face slick with sweat. Aesop took care to pull his hair from the usual ponytail to make things more comfortable. The Gardener returned with Emily, who immediately went into work mode, shooing out William, Aesop, and Emma, and leaving Eli to explain the situation. She checked the ill Mercenary for any abnormalities before sighing.

“Well, fortunately, it’s nothing serious. Just a simple flu caused by a mix of stress, exhaustion, and overwork. He should be fine in a couple days if he rests and takes it easy. Even after that, I would recommend staying away from matches for at least a couple more days after recovery. He really has been participating a lot lately, and now that I have had a chance to look him over properly, there are traces of lack of sleep,” She sighed. “It truly was a matter of time.”

Eli nodded. “Thank you, Emily. I don’t know where we would be without you.”

“It is no trouble. I’m just doing my job as the resident doctor.”

“Still, thank you.”

The Doctor only smiled, and let Eli take Naib back to his room.

—

For the next couple days, Eli took turns with his friends and Emily to take care of the sick Mercenary. Fortunately, he was way too delirious with fever to even think about trying to do anything strenuous. He spent most of the time sleeping off the fever, only waking to eat or throw up. After two long days, Naib’s fever peaked before finally breaking. After what seemed like forever, Naib woke up, eyes frantically blinking away the sleep. Eli was beside his bed, reading a book when he noticed Naib awake.

“Good morning, Naib,” he greeted, smiling. “You caused quite a panic, collapsing during a match. And then you’re fever spiked last night…It broke finally.”

Naib brought up an arm to cover his eyes.

“How long was I out.”

“Two days.”

Naib shot up, instantly regretting it as the room spun. He felt gentle hands steadying and supporting him, helping to lean him against the headboard.

“Careful, you just woke up. Don’t strain yourself.”

Naib nodded, trying to wrap his head around the fact that two days had passed with him out of commission. He sighed heavily.

“Still…two days? That’s…”

Too long is what he wanted to say, but one look from Eli made his words die in his throat.

“Naib,” he started, not missing the slight flinch the Mercenary made at his tone, “You had an extremely high fever. You collapsed during the match–a match I specifically told you to sit out of. If it weren’t for Bane’s kindness in throwing the match, you may have been in worse shape–I know the injurines gained in matches are gone afterwards, but the exhaustion and stress doesn’t.”

Naib couldn’t find the words to refute. In hindsight, perhaps he really should have taken it easy. Even if he didn’t volunteer, someone else would have. Then again, maybe not. He’s probably one of the few people who willingly volunteers for matches. At the time, he didn’t want Tracy to play a match with injured wrists, and his body went into autopilot and pressed the volunteer button. Naib hung his head in shame. In his recklessness he had caused problems for his friends and comrades.

“Which leads me to my next concern,” Eli continued, snapping Naib out of his thoughts. “Ever since you arrived, you’ve been playing the game non-stop. I can’t deny that when you play, you truly do seem to enjoy the thrill of the chase, but…it also seems like there’s a desperation to your actions. You almost never escape, and always volunteer in place of another who couldn’t, and you refuse to seek for help. You constantly support us…rescue us, but refuse to accept the same…Do you not trust us?”

This made Naib perk up with shock.

“That’s not true, I–” he paused. Now that he thought about it, when was the last time he actually fully relied on a comrade? “You’re…You’re right…I’m sorry. It’s not that I don’t trust you, I just…”

Eli smiled, “You don’t want to burden us because you care too much. Same with the chases. It’s the one time you feel useful, and when you take hits meant for others and let the others escape before you, it’s the same. You’d rather be the sacrifice than sacrifice another.”

Naib perked up.

“Haha, by that reaction, I guessed right.” He sat down on the bed, a hand on his head and pulling him into a hug. “You’re not alone. Don’t try to shoulder the burden by yourself.”

They stayed like that for a bit longer, before they pulled apart. Eli stood up abruptly.

“Alright! It’s almost time for breakfast. Everyone was worried, so why don’t we head down once you’ve changed?”

Naib stared for a moment before a small smile spread across his face.

“Yeah.”

Eli turned to leave.

“And Eli,” Naib paused as Eli looked back, “Thanks…for everything. I’ll need to thank the other guys too.”

Eli smiled wide, “It’s what friends do. We lean on and help each other. Don’t forget that.”

Naib nodded and waited for Eli to exit the room before changing. Really, he’s found some great comrades–no–friends. And he’s vowed to protect each and every one of them with his life.

[badbookreviewclub]

Empress Theresa, Chapters 5-10

Once more, if you haven’t read the previous update of Chapters 3 and 4, I highly recommend you do. You can find that review here.  Disclaimer: This review will contain spoilers. I guess if you don’t want the book spoiled for you, don’t read the review until afterward.  This one is going to be a long one, so strap the fuck in, because it’s a wild ride. Chapters 5-10 aren’t nearly as painful as chapters 3 and 4 were to read. They were much easier, though more confusing. Or at least, all but one chapter weren’t painful. Chapters 5 and 6 were just a giant recap of everything that happened in chapters 3 and 4 and are essentially pointless to the entire book, I’ll still go over a few things that happened in them, but in general, they are completely and utterly pointless. Chapters 7 and 8 are where things start to get confusing, 9 is just painful, and 10 elicits more confusion. In fact, 10 is the most confusing chapter out of the entire bunch, but, I’ll start from the beginning and hopefully, things will clear up more as I recall and lay it out for you.  Chapters 5 and 6 As I said, these chapters are just a giant review of what happened in 3 and 4. It’s a waste of time except for small details that are recalled in the chapters. However, because I had to live through this pain, you’re going to live through it too. At the start of chapter 5, Theresa wakes up in the hospital. Nothing too exciting. She realizes that there are a lot of people in her room, including the Prime Minister of England, Peter Blair. Theresa grows incredibly frustrated because “All [she] wanted was a quiet life.” I find this hard to believe later on down the line, but alright. She finally starts talking after throwing her tantrum and Blair, or as Boutin likes to write ‘pm Blair’ because he fucking loves abbreviations, confirms that she has been ‘dead’ for two weeks. I’ll get into this in a minute, but for now, all I will say is that it is fucking stupid. Theresa and Blair have a bit more conversation and Theresa inquires if the media has been talking about her. Rather than summarizing it for you because that would be far more interesting than what I had to endure, I’m going to write it all out word for word, so please, do enjoy. (Italics are my own notes) “‘I’ll bet my secret is out.’ (Theresa) ‘It is.’ (Blair) ‘Terrific. Some maniac will kill me in a week. How did you get to me in time?’ ‘We didn’t. You’ve been dead for two weeks.’ ‘What? That can’t happen.’ ‘It did. A most remarkable story.’ ‘So I went through all that for nothing?’ (Did you fucking want to die?)  I was referring to my kidnapping and fall from the plane. (Anybody with two cents worth of brain cells could figure this out. You don’t need to write it out.) ‘I’m afraid so.’ Could my anonymity still be preserved? ‘I’ll bet there’s a lot of news stories about me.’ ‘About a million if you include all languages around the world. You are discussed continuously.’ No anonymity! ‘Anybody say anything bad about me?’ ‘No. I have seen nothing negative.’ ‘I knew I might become famous and kept myself squeaky clean.’ (Is that the only reason? That’s a stupid, stupid fucking reason to try and be a good person in that case. More than that, I thought you wanted to live a quiet life? Yet you were planning on becoming famous?) ‘People with problems can be interesting too.’ ‘Yeah, well, people with problems don’t change the world.’ (Pgs 74-75)” Aside from what I’ve already commented on and how boring this entire conversation is, I take serious issue with that last remark. Believe it or not, but people with problems do change the world. You can look up a list of people who have changed the world, and almost every single one of them has had controversy before or people found problems with them. I asked four different people and the answers I got were: Hitler, Jesus, and Alexander the Great. All of them changed the world, be it for better or for worse, and every single one of them had problems. So please, Boutin, I’d like to hear your examples of people who changed the world who didn’t have problems. I’m waiting. Moving along from this shitshow display of poor logic and bad writing, we get more bad writing! What a fun surprise! Boutin goes way too in-depth about medical machines and what they had used to try and revive her and watch her vitals. If you’ll recall, this book is supposed to be an autobiography written by Theresa. I don’t recall Theresa every studying medicine or anything medical, or even having the slightest interest in medical things. In fact, later on, Theresa says that she wanted to be a high school math teacher. I almost guarantee, most high school math teachers will not know what an ‘electroencephalograph’ is. I still don’t know what it is and Boutin explains what it is in the fucking book. It took a quick google search after realizing I still didn’t know what it was to realize that it reads the electrical signals in the brain. That is all you had to say Boutin if anything at all. Yet, like everything else in this stupid fucking book, you had to go and make it complicated to make yourself seem like you are smart. Blah, Blah, Blah, turns out Theresa is coated in blood. This isn’t explained until about half-way through chapter six. As would turn out, it coagulated shark’s blood because when she was floating in the sea, a bunch of sharks came to try and eat her. Except, every time the sharks got close to her floating, apparently dead, body, they would explode and the other sharks would feast on the dead one. This is attributed to HAL, which I guess at this point, only makes sense. Unsurprisingly enough, HAL is what kept Theresa alive as well. However, it isn’t what brought her back to life. What brought her back to life was the doctors in London, putting her in a room at 105 degrees (Fahrenheit, I assume. Because Celcius would be fucking disastrous). And as her body warmed up, she came back to life. Rather than the doctors trying to save her or doing anything at all to try and help her, they just stared and hoped that as she warmed up, she would be revived. Unshockingly, this worked. After being revived Blair takes Theresa out to see an enormous crowd of people who are holding signs, essentially just jerking off Theresa’s ever-growing ego more. One of the signs, however, reads ‘SAVE US’. Theresa inquires about this and pm Blair refuses to answer. Instead, he sends her to a hotel and has BBC put together a documentary for her compiling everything that happened during the two-week stint that Theresa was ‘dead’.  Here is when we find out that the way HAL decided to try and save Theresa from death, that somehow worked, is that he stopped the wind. Yes. HAL stopped the fucking wind to try and save Theresa in her massive fall out of a plane. For some reason, everyone accepts this as perfectly logical. How, in the ever-changing and ever-flourishing earth, is this fucking logical? I don’t even know how to get into why the reasoning on this is so bad but I’m going to try. First of all, it’s the acceleration and then the eventual impact with water that would have killed Theresa, not the wind. Theresa slamming into the water would have flattened both her and all those empty plastic coke bottles she shoved into her jumper to act as a life jacket. The surface tension would have killed her regardless if there was wind or not. The wind played absolutely no factor in speeding up or slowing down Theresa’s fall, and in fact, would have probably been better for her if it picked up and disturbed the surface of the water because it would have helped to break that surface tension before she hit. Not saying she would have survived, but she would have had a slightly better chance at survival. Before I have an aneurism, I’m going to move on. President Martin resigned in the middle of the night and left his V.P., Veronica Stinson to take over as President. He did this because he announced to the entire world that he had Theresa killed and why. Obviously, the world didn’t react well to this, especially after realizing that the wind had stopped. I don’t know how they came to the conclusion that this was because of Theresa, but somehow they did. During the investigation of Theresa that happened shortly before Martin’s resignation, they found a file called MISSION IMPOSSIBLE in a file on Theresa’s account in the Boston College computer system. Don’t ask me what the file is about because I still have no fucking idea. I guess it’s a bunch of code to fuck knows what, but a whole bunch of mathematicians were brought in to try and decode it and none of them could.  Chapter 7 and 8 In these chapters, Theresa goes in front of the cameras with Prime Minister Blair and her ego gets jerked off more much to her delight. They go on and on about how amazing Theresa is and how she’s going to do great. These chapters are full of more bullshit and are overall annoying, but at the very least, they progress the story a bit more than the previous two. In chapter 7 Theresa explains what HAL is and why HAL transferred to her, and just like always, Boutin has absolutely impeccable logic. To put is as simply as I can, HAL transfers over to Theresa because, and she is dead convinced about this, despite HAL apparently having been in North America (Not Earth, North America) for “a hundred million years” he had never seen someone raking leaves before. As such, because HAL apparently thought that it was a new appendage, thus making this new create more complicated than the one he currently inhabited (the fox) it meant that it was obviously more complex and could help him to evolve more. By that logic, HAL, as soon as he sees an octopus, should leave Theresa for the octopus, but I guess not. We also find out why HAL isn’t sentient, and apparently, it’s because “He has no more brains than a jellyfish.” He doesn’t have brains despite the fact that he seems to have a constant and unchanging need to evolve and adapt new reflexes, thus urging him to move to more complex creates and recognizing when a creature is living and more complex. Theresa goes on with an overly long and complex description of just what HAL is, but I will sum it up for you as simply as I possibly can; HAL is made up of dark matter. He’s not an alien, he’s a remnant from the Big Bang and is constantly trying to evolve to keep its host alive and well. To fix this problem of the wind being stopped, Theresa suggests that they start a committee to come up with the best solution and people are both deeply displeased with her statement about what HAL is and her idea for a committee. Theresa isn’t happy that the people aren’t understanding her explanation either and says, “‘It’s their fault if they don’t get it’ I said to Nancy. ‘Everything has been explained. Nothing is understood.’ (Pg 126)” If people don’t understand your explanation, it’s not because they’re stupid, it’s because you did a poor job of explaining it. It is for this reason that I firmly believe Theresa would have never been able to make it as a math teacher, be she a teacher for high school or not. Aside from that, Theresa turns on the news, more specifically, “... the biggest international media circus of all: CNN (Pg 127).” CNN conducted an unofficial poll to see if people wanted Theresa to act with a committee or not and overwhelmingly, the answer is no.  The reasons vary as to why people are saying no, and because I can’t phrase them in a more eloquent manner than Boutin, who has the most beautiful writing I have ever had the absolute pleasure to read, I’ll let his own writing speak for itself and explain. “‘The committee will presumably meet with Theresa Hartley who is an American. Many nations will object. It’s not like the United Nations that meets in New York with no government presence. Theresa and the committee will be the government. With Hartley the most important member it will be an American government. That will be unacceptable to many (pgs 126-127).” Another reason offered up by the President of France, who claims “‘It is not practical. We are not talking of the United Nations where thousands of people are needed to do something. HAL can do something alone. This is power on a new level. A committee in control of HAL would be a target for every terrorist organization. I believe nobody will want to be on the committee. We would need to surround each member with an army (pg 128).’” No, you really wouldn’t need to surround every member with an army. I will also state now that nobody in their right or wrong mind, terrorist or not, would even think about killing Theresa at this very moment because as far as they all know if Theresa dies then they are all royally fucked in the ass without lube. Though Theresa quickly dissuades those fears of her death meaning the end of the world when she says that people can “‘...kill me if [they] want. HAL will just move to somebody else. It could be anybody. HAL wouldn’t know the difference between Joan of Arc and Adolf Hitler. You want to try your luck?’ (pg 129)” Wonderful job comparing Theresa to Hitler again, Boutin. You’ve absolutely outdone yourself this time around. I’m going to point out now, Theresa never has an assassin come after her in the next couple of chapters, so this threat of people or terrorists coming after her is utterly pointless and at best, it’s a complete and utter joke.   Also, I’d just like to point out that Boutin uses an outdated and potentially offensive term for ‘Muslim’, saying ‘Moslem’ instead when describing Middle Eastern countries. I’m not Muslim, so I can’t speak to the offensiveness of this, but it took a quick google search to verify that yes, one probably shouldn’t be using this word when writing. I would also like to point out that there are Muslim countries outside of the Middle East, and that Norman is more than just a little uncultured. Anyways, in chapter 8, to try and keep Theresa safe, they send her to live in a mansion in England owned by the Parker family. The Parker family reminds me of animated mannequin dolls who do nothing but stare at you without a word. The Parker family “won’t speak to [Theresa] unless [she] speak[s] first (pg 144).” The reason why they won’t do this is that “Every moment of [Theresa’s] time is the world’s treasure (pg 144).” Bullshit.  Theresa goes and meets the Parker family once Steve arrives at the house and none of them matter as far as I’m aware and hold no relevance to the story. If they come up again and for one reason or another hold any kind of purpose, I’ll mention who they are but for now, their presence in Empress Theresa is pointless. All they are good for is to give Theresa the house. Wonderful story writing abilities, Boutin. People start sending Theresa money because apparently, they’re so grateful to her and her attempts to start saving them that they feel as though they need to send her 6000+ letters and money. By the end of the second day, I think that they have over a million dollars, which is fucking nuts, but alright, I guess. Thersa also has absolutely no work ethic when she is working, which makes me absolutely concerned with how the fuck she managed to get straight A’s in school and in college. But to show you how terrible her work ethic is, let me lay it out for you in Boutin’s words. “As the week went on we settled into a routine. Three hours was about all I could take doing the intense work I was doing. So after working form 8 to 11 in the morning I’d take a walk around the estate with Steve. Then it was lunch. Then work from 1 to 4 in the afternoon and a couple of hours of reading or television before dinner. Finally, maybe an hour or two of work in the evening before the winding down to bedtime (pg 150-151).” Because you know, it’s not like the world is in peril and every day that you are working to try and save the world people are dying and being killed off for their supplies more likely than not. It isn’t like the world would logically be falling into a state of complete anarchy at knowing that their lives are in the hands of an 18-year-old who has absolutely no record of working and has no real-world experience, thus leading people to absolutely lose all hope in the system or at any chance of survival which would severe the social-contracts that bind us all and keep humanity from functioning in a state of nature, but it’s whatever, I guess. After all, we live in Boutin’s magical world now, where everybody is perfectly calm and nobody in the world is in a state of panic because the world is literally falling apart right before their eyes. Nobody has any mental disorders which this situation is only exacerbating and schizophrenia is only a convenient excuse as to why you don’t tell people about the insane shit that happens in your life. Anyways…  Chapter 9 This chapter is a fucking shit show and makes me want to burn the book before I finish it. I hated this chapter so much because it shows just how uncultured and entitled Norman Boutin is. He is the definition of an entitled North American, and what is supposed to come off as Boutin shitting on other countries only makes him look like a fucking idiot and it makes Theresa look like an absolute cunt. But, I’ll get into that in a moment. For now, let’s work our way to that point. At the beginning of this chapter, we see Theresa trying out different tasks to try and train HAL or get him to develop new reflexes. I have no idea what her end goal is here or what getting him to develop these new reflexes will do other than giving her a stupid as fuck skill. She does this in four different ways (keep in mind, this is supposed to be incredibly intense work that keeps her from working more than 3 hours at a time. Also please take note, I am writing this word for word and double-checking to make sure I haven’t left any errors on my part), “One was to slide a small coin between two glasses on a table. I’d place a coin next to one glass, leave it there a moment, then put my finger on it to slide it to the other glass. After doing this a few times, I’d place the coin at the first glass and wait a while to see if HAL would move it for me (pg 157.)” “The second thing I did was a takeoff on the throwing accuracy skill that HAL gave me. I tossed a coin in a small metal can a few feet away. Keeping my eyes on the can’s opening got the coin inside the can every time. Then I’d toss a coin with my eyes shut. Once in while the coin would go in the can by pure chance, but generally, it missed (pg 157).”  “The third thing I did was stand up and drop a coin on the floor besides the can while keeping my eyes on the can’s opening. If HAL got the idea he would move the coin into the can. I was not throwing the coin; I was dropping it. If HAL guided the coin to the can it was a new reflex using elements of an old one (pg 158).” “The fourth thing I did was entirely different. I suspended a one foot ruler on a piece of string. The string was attached to the end of a yardstick held in place with a book on top of a bookshelf. After steadying the foot ruler I pointed to its end for the moment to give HAL a chance, then I pushed the ruler’s end to make it rotate a hundred degrees or so. This maneuver had nothing to do with coins, or throwing, and would seem to require very little of HAL, just a tiny push (pg 158).”  Boo fucking hoo. Does Theresa need a little binky because she’s upset at how intense this work is and how hard it is? Does she need Steve to come in and start giving her an allowance because it’s more than obvious that this incredibly difficult job is taking a toll on her? I know throwing a coin can be so difficult for her, and the brainpower she’s exerting right now must be off the charts. It’s not like there are people who work 8 hours straight or 17 hours straight in a day only to get in total 2.5 hours work of break time, two of which aren’t even paid for or accounted for because it’s supposed to be ‘lunch’.  Anger and bitterness aside, HAL doesn’t respond to any of these (probably because they make no fucking sense) and after a couple of days of this with work and no progress for HAL’s part, Theresa decides that despite the fact that they’ve been there for three weeks, she needs a vacation. So where do they head? Paris. This is where I get angry, more so than I was before if you can believe it. I am a total francophile and am in the process of learning to speak french, so you’ll have to forgive the ensuing rant. Theresa and Steve go to Paris in disguises so they don’t get mobbed, however, the disguises are fucking stupid. Steve wears a floppy hat and sunglasses and Theresa wears sunglasses and piles her hair on top of her head. Those aren’t disguises, those are just you changing your outfit a little bit. Sorry honey, but with how much your face has been broadcast and all of the photos of you and the posters they’re selling of you without your consent there’s no way that’s a fucking ‘disguise’. Theresa and Steve decide that they want to go see the different famous parts of Paris, including the ‘Champs-Elysees’ which is filled to the brim of ‘over-expensive’ stores, despite the fact that the Champs-Élysées is infamous for being filled with designer and luxury stores and brands, it’s absolutely filled with brilliant french fashion. But, despite what Boutin claims about having absolutely no chain stores, it does. Les Champs has different chain outlets like Sephora, Nike, GAP, et...c. They also go to see the Arch of Triumph which I can only assume is the Americanized version of the Arc de Triomphe. Call me a fucking pretentious bitch if you want, but its name is Arc de Triomphe, not Arch of Triumph. They go into the Louvre, which in itself isn’t a problem. That is, it’s not a problem until they arrive at the Mona Lisa, which Theresa claims is ‘not impressive’ because it’s so ‘small’, is ‘in a recess in the wall’ and is ‘covered by light-absorbing darkened glass to protect it from flashy cameras’. Admittedly, I do think at times that the Mona Lisa can be over-hyped, but it a piece of history. The Mona Lisa is almost akin to a wonder of art history, and it’s so well protected and hidden because it’s worth so fucking much and people have attempted to throw acid on it before. Not only that, but they don’t want people touching the Mona Lisa. It’s Leonardo da Vinci’s masterpiece of the Renaissance and one of the most known paintings in the world, so I’m so sorry you’re disappointed by it, Theresa, and can’t be bothered to look up information about it that is more than easily accessible to anybody with a phone and a penny’s worth of intelligence. We then get to the absolute peak of Boutin’s cultural knowledge and acceptance, when Theresa goes to visit the Notre-Dame de Paris. “It was smaller than we expected. It was basically a pile of stone erected around 1200 and the huge pillars holding up the roof didn’t leave much room for the people. There were no pews; everybody had to stand. The artwork was pre-Renaissance and rather unspectacular after our visit to the Louvre. It was disappointing (pg 165).”  I am so, so fucking sorry you found it disappointing Theresa. I understand that history isn’t everyone’s love, but the Notre-Dame is absolutely dazzling in its beauty. The shit that the Notre-Dame has gone through and how it still remains standing today is an absolute miracle. I know it went through the fire, yet it still stands. The beautiful stained glass windows that will make anyone in awe of their beauty and would bring me to tears if I ever got the chance to see them in person still remain. The sun shines through the glass and gives an ambiance of absolute reverence and holiness. The gothic architecture pulls you back in time and brings you to when the cathedral was built. You are in a standing piece of history, so who gives a fuck if there are no pews? There are so many people filtering in and out of the Notre-Dame day in and day out that they can’t afford to have pews in the building. They still hold services in the building and bring in chairs for people to sit, you just didn’t happen to attend when there was a service because you’re a tourist. Tourists don’t attend church services in historic cathedrals, usually. Besides that, the Notre-Dame was built in 1163-1345 CE. Technically around the year 1200 CE, but still, this information is readily available to anyone who can access Google. Also, how fucking dare you call it a pile of stone? This building is more than just a fucking pile of stone. The rock garden in front of my parent’s house is a pile of fucking stone, the Notre-Dame is anything but a pile of stone. It is the heart of Paris, is the lady of Paris who was mourned when she burned down and is being rebuilt. The Notre-Dame is a masterpiece of architecture and a building that I, even as an atheist, would die to see. The Notre-Dame has been through hell and back and yet the building still stands. It has lived through the best and through the worst of times in France and it still endures. The Notre-Dame is a sign of hope for the French, just as the American flag acted as a sign of hope of the United States during the revolutionary war. I wouldn’t call the flag a bunch of fabric, so, don’t you fucking dare call the Notre-Dame a pile of stone. The way that her feelings are expressed about the Notre-Dame, how it has no pews, calling it a pile of stone, calling the stained glass unspectacular, it radiates childish behavior and thoughts. It shows just how uncultured Boutin is and makes Theresa look like a complete brat in her behavior because she has absolutely no will to educate herself in the slightest and it makes her look absolutely entitled. It’s petulant and childish behavior and I will not stand for it. If you’re going to act like a child, Theresa, I’m going to treat you like the little brat you are. You have absolutely no capacity for thought other than ‘I want what I want, and when it’s not exactly how I want it, I’m going to throw a fucking tantrum and call it awful and unfair.’ After Theresa acting like an entitled brat, they go to the Eiffel Tower, where she gets to act more like an entitled brat. She’s mad that the subway doesn’t drop them right off at the Eiffel Tower and they have to walk half a mile (Oh no, I’m so fucking sorry that you have to walk h a l f   a   m i l e) to get to the tower. Paris, apparently, isn’t anything special to look at when you get to the observation deck on the Eiffel Tower, and Theresa calls Paris a “tired old city. American cities offered just as much (pg 165).” How Fucking Childish Can She Get? American cities do not have nearly as much to offer. Yes, in the United States we have so much history on our shores, especially from Native American tribes, but the United States doesn’t offer as much. In no way shape or form does the United States offer nearly as much as Paris does in terms of history. They didn’t even go and visit some of the more amazing and breathtaking sights, like the catacombs, or any of the old and castles, left to ruin. No food was tried, no culture was experienced, no history was truly experienced. Theresa and Steve did absolutely nothing to immerse themselves into the Parisian culture and they got nothing out of it, so what the fuck did they expect? This rings of entitlement and childish behavior and it’s fucking stupid. Chapter 9 has infuriated me like no other chapter so much to the point that I don’t even feel as though I can properly express how angry I am.  But, for the sake of my own sanity, we’ll move along. Theresa says she misses chipmunks which have absolutely nothing to do with Paris or what she was just talking about but I guess this statement is at least semi-important. At about 9 pm they go out to a second-floor restaurant that obviously has a dress-code and expect to be serviced like entitled children. Surprise, surprise, they’re not serviced because they’re dressed in ‘American casual’. Even in the United States, restaurants that have a dress code have the right and will refuse you service if you’re not adhering to that code. So Steve and Theresa decide to seat themselves, and this may be getting nitpicky, but once more it shows how little research Boutin did and how uncultured he is, because, despite the fact that it’s 9 at night, he says ‘Bonjours’ to a French couple next to him. Yes, ‘Bonjours’, not ‘Bonjour’, he fucking adds an ‘s’ to the end. A quick lesson in French: Bonjour is only used during the morning/early-middle of the day. It literally translates to ‘good day’, and you wouldn’t say ‘good day’ to someone at 9 pm. 9 am you can, in fact, that’s acceptable. But at 9 pm, you would say ‘good night’, or ‘Bonsoir’. It doesn’t take years of French to know this. It takes two seconds of searching on Google which I am convinced Boutin is incapable of doing at this point Anyways, they leave the restaurant after showing to everyone that it was mE, DIO THE WHOLE TIME. NEVER FUCKING WOULD HAVE GUESS THAT, WOULD YOU? Just kidding, that would have been better. No, they just reveal that it was Theresa and Steve the whole time who aren’t (no they definitely are) random American slobs. Moving along, they go to Ireland this time and have a fucking blast, I guess. Then they go back to England and back to the Parker residence, where Theresa finds out that Steve had the soldiers build Theresa a little shed/cage thing for chipmunks, which he is having imported from the United States. Why? Because she missed them. Once again, it’s not like it’s been 3 weeks since Theresa found out the world was ending and she hasn’t really done jack shit to try and fix it. The world definitely isn’t completely and utterly fucked. Chapter 10  We have finally made it to the last chapter of this review and by far one of the most confusing ones. To save you the pain I had to go through of trying to decipher this chapter because I feel like being nicer than Boutin was to me after chapter 9, Theresa gets a new ‘reflex’ where every time she closes her eyes or puts her hands in front of her face (one of the two, I still can’t tell) she basically has a black and white google earth pop up, except it’s moving in real-time. She can zoom in and zoom out and spy on people or see places that are far away as they’re happening. I don’t know what the point of this is yet, but I guess it’s a good thing.  Theresa also gets HAL to do the things that she wanted him to do in the ‘training’ exercises I mentioned earlier, and the way that Boutin describes it is super fucking confusing, so I’ll just put it simply by saying that Theresa gets HAL to do the thing and HAL does the thing well. And then, she’s working to get HAL to do the thing super fast and to do multiple things all at once.  People took her trip to France and Ireland well, I guess because it’s an indication that she’s still interested in things outside of herself. This is completely unrealistic and at this point, I highly doubt anyone would be letting Theresa do jack shit aside from working to save the earth. There would probably be a lot of riots and arguably, if things were realistic, Theresa would be dead as soon as people learned that HAL could transfer over if she died and chances were, they’d give HAL to somebody older and with more experience who had a team working behind them to make sure that they do the right thing. Chipmunks are important again because the Parker family finds it super endearing that she managed to get the chipmunks to eat out of her hand, and they take videos of it and post it all over social media. Theresa claims that the videos were shown on every corner of the planet, especially in kid’s programs, which apparently showed the clips every day. This totally doesn’t sound like indoctrination to me. At all. Somehow, because she’s taking good care of the chipmunks, this is supposed to make people have faith in her skills.  Theresa realizes that there needs to be rain, but we don’t find out what she does about that in this chapter which is fucking stupid. This entire book is fucking stupid and if I didn’t have problems with the idea of leaving things half-finished, I would have stopped reading it at this point. And that’s it. That is chapters 5-10. I hoped you enjoyed living through this hell with me. See you all whenever I get around to another review. Remember, if you have a book you want me to review, feel free to hit me up with an ask or some other way and I will do my best to get back to you. 

[withastolenlantern]

They boarded the jet without fanfare, and Davis keyed in his credentials and submitted the flight plan. Chatham settled into one of the plush chairs midway through the cabin and opened a terminal to begin her situation report. Before she knew it the autopilot had spooled up the turbines and they were aloft into the rapidly darkening sky, chasing the sunset as it crawled its way east. She looked out through one of the windows and saw Jamaica, still green and verdant even in the twilight, quickly disappear, just another speck amidst the breakers, swallowed by the massive sea. 

They flew in silence most of the way, Chatham working on her report and Davis just sitting quietly across the cabin. He nursed a small glass of whiskey from the Earl’s bar in the rear, mainly swirling it against the sides of the frosted crystal, staring off into space.

“You’ve been atypically quiet, Mister Santomas,” she said looking up from the terminal.

“I’ve, uh… I’ve never been shot at before. Never killed anybody either. I think that’s catching up with me a little bit,” he said, continuing to stare at the floor.

“Best not to make a habit of either, I’ve found,” Chatham responded. 

“Puts things in perspective a little,” the engineer confessed. “What if it had been me, falling lifeless through that hatch?”

The detective put down the terminal and leaned forward toward him. She’d been through this existential crisis before, many years ago in a bivouac in some coastal Indian city she couldn’t remember. Earlier that day she’d fired her weapon for the first time in anger, shooting a suicide bomber out of mid-air as he leaped over rubble and sprinted toward her squad. Afterward, she stood over the body, silent, staring at the hole in the insurgent’s chest. It was bigger than she had expected, somehow, and when she’d closed her eyes that night it was all she could see; a gaping, oozing portal where a person used to be, and it threatened to pull her in and consume her whole.

“But it wasn’t you,” she said.

“Tell me one thing I’ve done that matters,” he challenged, with a sudden ferocity that startled her.

“I mean, I’m...” she started to argue.

“Its fine,” he said, waving the detective off. “It’s not you. I’ve been doing this a long time, and I’ve heard it all. I’m reliable. I get things done. I’m ‘good at my function’.” He made finger quotes as he listed off descriptors. “But those are the qualities you look for in a washing machine, not a person.”

Chatham tried to interrupt, but he continued. “When I’m gone, it won’t matter. In the course of human history, I don’t even rate a footnote. Fuck, the shareholders won’t even notice, and I’ve done nothing but make them money. No… no they’ll probably be happy because they can replace me with someone cheaper,” he scoffed, turning his eyes to the floor. “I haven’t accomplished anything with my miserable existence that’s worth a damn.”

The detective sat quietly, unsure of what to say. She knew from her own experience that whatever arguments she might present to the contrary would fall on deaf ears. When one fell in to these depths, no rhetorical ropes could pull you out until you’d resolved to make the climb. Her companion continued to fume, obviously if quietly. “You’re probably not… wrong,” she hazarded. “In the grand scheme of things, I don’t know that any of us really matter. Not as individuals, anyway. I mean, I have a Military Cross and I keep it in a fucking sock drawer. When I’m dead, they’ll etch a fancy symbol on my tombstone, and that’ll be the last anyone thinks of me.”

He looked up at her, his gaze deep and penitent. “This is all a fucking show, you know,” he said, gesturing around the laboratory. “It’s a sham, like me. HenRI is more than capable of running everything in here, at least to the Board’s liking. They put a body down here because it ‘humanizes’ the Consortium, makes the investors feel like they’re doing business with a human enterprise, and not just a machine. When Diaz passed away, they thought about letting HenRI run all of Operations. It’s not like we really do any meaningful R&D anymore; there’s no point when they’re shutting down most of the fabs. But the Earl knew better, and he was nervous about giving a virtual intelligence that much control. He wanted someone… pliable. Someone he could trot out to glad-hand and speak the customers’ language, but wouldn’t make waves. I’m no more than HenRI’s secretarial functions in flesh and bone.”

“I don’t believe that, even if you do,” she replied.

“Diaz killed himself, you know.”

“What?” Chatam said, taken aback.

Santomas shook his head in the affirmative, pantomiming a finger gun. “Forty-five to the temple, a no-doubter. He was sitting in his office; he printed the gun himself, in one of the dev lab fabs that were off the network. I found the code on the server a couple days later.”

“Christ,” the detective swore.

“Janitorial drone found him one night, 3 AM, his body slumped over his desk. Only threw up the flag because of all the blood. HenRI notified me, and I had to break the news to Jaime, his partner. The Consortium bought his silence, of course; he took the payout and their kid and moved back to the States. Haven’t heard from him since,” he explained.

“Did he leave a note?” she asked.

“Not as such. It’s… it’s probably my fault, if anything,” Santomas said, starting to choke up. “I know Jaime hated it here in Wales and they were drifting apart at the end. Looking back, I think I was the closest thing Yangervis had left resembling a friend. His parents fled cartel violence in Colombia when he was five, and they landed in Texas. They had trouble making ends meet in the US. His dad was killed robbing a convenience store; his mother sued the state and the settlement was how he was able to afford his initial studies at A&M. He started the autofabs, in my opinion anyway, as a way to relieve some of that economic anxiety for other families so they didn’t have go through what he did. We were so successful at first, but then Black Tuesday happened, and I think he blamed himself for all the layoffs that followed.

Looking back, I keep wondering if there weren’t signs I should have recognized. He used to gripe all the time about expanding capabilities and finding ways to streamline distributions to do more for the growing poor. I just… I never realized how far down that particular rabbit hole he’d gone. We had a memorial here, and then a week later the Earl offered me his job. I should’ve said no, but I’m too much of a coward.” The engineer wiped a single tear from his cheek with his shirt-sleeve.

Chatham leaned forward and patted his leg gently.“You saved my life today,” the detective replied. “That’s what you did that matters. There was no cowardice in that.” 

The rest of the return flight passed uneventfully. Santomas dozed off, snoring gently from across the cabin. She completed her after action report, which would no doubt raise a few eyebrows come morning. The detective considered what ridiculous excuse the home office would come up with to explain away a clearly recurrent trend. Pirates were not typically so organized, or methodical; they were opportunists mainly, and it seemed more than coincidental that multiple Consortium facilities several thousand miles apart could be targeted with some sort of coordination. Curiously the mercenaries in the fab had only been stealing weapons and other physical gear; there was no sign of the mysterious fluid they’d found on the African skiffs, although it didn’t mean they hadn’t already loaded it onto the hovercraft before she’d interrupted them. Larger forces were obviously at work here, but she could not yet determine to what end.

The landing gear engaged the tarmac on the private runway at Cardiff and broke her from musings. Santomas had woken at some point, and was now manipulating some data on a holo display. He smiled lightly over toward her, an unspoken acknowledgement of the previous day’s stressors now past. The jet’s reverse thrusters roared to life, and they taxied slowly into the Consortium’s hangar.

“I’ll be in the lab going over the data we scraped,” the engineer informed her as she stood and collected herself. “Go home and get some sleep. Call me if you come up with anything.”

“I will,” she replied, descending the narrow staircase out of the jet. 

The early morning sky was a light grey with the sun just barely peaking above the Bristol Channel to the east. She stumbled across the terminal groggily and used her HRMES credentials to bypass the normal immigration lines. A drone taxi was waiting for her just outside the baggage carousel, and she flopped into the rear seat with a weariness she could feel deep into her bones. The car rumbled to life and in a span of time she could not, nor wanted to recall, she was home.

The lights came on automatically as she entered her flat, Gibson had turned on the kettle reflexively as she’d entered. Sleep was all she really wanted, but the heat from the kettle was inviting and she poured the warm water into a mug with practiced ease.  

“Good evening, guv. We’ve had an encrypted communique,” the flat informed her. “Highly unusual.” 

“Oh?” she asked, steeping a tea bag into the mug.

“Yes. I was unable to decode the packet or identify the sender’s IP address. It appears to require a vocal code confirmation.” The flat projected open a holo screen and opened the message. The only contents were a line of text, commanding “Fancy a drink?” 

Chatham cracked a knowing smile. “Earl grey, with honey,” she spoke aloud to the holo. The screen transitioned to a sonographic representation of her voice, and then overlaid it against a similar image. As they slid together, she could see the graphs align, and the encrypted video message opened.

“Hello, dear,” the Lady Swansea beamed from the holo.

[gayden--yuki]

A big Yu-Gi-Oh Sevens post

New series! Awesome! The new art style will take some getting used to and Yuga’s hair isn’t nearly stupid enough but hey, it should be fun. I like that they’re not introducing a new summoning type as well since the game already had too much of that

This post is going to be mostly speculation about the series, along with just pointing out things that might be interesting

Okay so my first point is about the new art style. I know that it’s had mixed responses but hopefully it along with the simpler character designs means more interesting and dynamic movement. The previous series tended to lack that, and it was really obvious when you compare simpler looking characters like Ai’s movement to the human characters in that show. And hey, it worked for pokemon

The trailer doesn’t exactly show us much though. And hey, I’m just a person on the internet. Maybe I’m completely wrong

Anyway onto the characters. I’m gonna link to this webpage which does a better job summarising the characters than I can. But let’s look at Yuga

This is Yuga and he’s the new protagonist. He’s an inventor and the youngest protagonist yet at 11. But I want to draw your attention to this part of the above webpage’s summary of him

He thinks the Duels run by adults currently are overly rigid and super unfun, so he develops his own rule set that he dreams of entertaining the world with

He makes up his own rules instead of using the official ones. This is exactly how 11 year olds play this game and I love that

Also the entertainment thing reminds me of Yuya but I’ve only watched like 2 episodes of arc v so what do i know

I don’t have much to say about the other characters. If you want their names and appearances and even what their names mean check out the website I linked that’s where I’m getting all my info from. I’ll link it again here

Next up: the monsters

On the left is Sevens Road Magician, Yuga’s ace monster. On the right is Rush Dragon Dragears. Both are, perhaps unsurprisingly, level 7 monsters

Sevens Road Magician is a magician monster, which makes Yuga the third protagonist to use some variant of the magician archetype (fourth if you count Yusaku’s Cyberse Magician, but that was only one monster). It also has the dark magical circle in the background, which a quick google search tells me is a thing exclusive to Yugi’s magicians aka the dark magicians. This is extra interesting, considering blue eyes white dragon appears in the trailer

It also only has 2100 attack which is really low for a level 7 monster. It had better have a good effect to make up for this. Also, this is a deviation from the trend of ace monsters having 2500 attack which I know was technically broken first by vrains but decode talker’s effect lets it boost itself to 2500 and also Yusaku’s ace was supposed to be firewall dragon anyway before it was banished to the tcg and ocg banlist for being too overpowered. Flame wingman had 2100 attack, so maybe another ace is coming later on?

You know what does have 2500 attack? Rush Dragon Dragears, which is Luke’s (the blue haired guy) ace. It’s not clear if this guy is the rival or not, but if he is this is also a deviation from the norm since rival’s aces usually have 3000 attack. It could also be that the guy using blue eyes is the rival

The ‘rush’ in the monster’s name probably refers to the new rush duels, and ‘dragears’ is a portmanteau of dragon and gears. ‘Gears’ is notable because Yuga is the inventor, and it’s stated that machines tend to break around Luke

It’s also stated that Yuga calls his inventions ‘roads’ (which is a pun on his name, for anyone curious). My guess is that he somehow invented or at least named Sevens Road Magician, and possibly Rush Dragon Dragears too. It looks like he at least has a connection to the latter monster

The parallels to DM are also very apparent with these two monsters. One has obvious ties to the dark magician archetype and the other is a blue dragon, plus we have a dark spellcaster and a light dragon (or at least, I assume that’s their types. I can’t read Japanese). Needless to say I’m very excited to learn more about them.

Plus, the title king of duels which the characters are fighting for according to the brief plot summary sounds very similar to king of games. Take this with a grain of salt though since 5Ds had the king of riding duels title but was mostly divorced from DM

Now onto rush duels. They seem to be the new gimmick, and I can’t help but compare them to speed duels from vrains. There’ll probably be a mix of master and rush duels in sevens, like how vrains had a mix of speed and master duels. It’s also stated that Yuga is the inventor of rush duels, and their focus is on winning duels quickly. Looks like we’ve come a long way from the 6 episode long duels in DM. I don’t doubt that the length of duels will still be 1 or 2 episodes though

What are rush duels exactly? Basically they’re regular duels except you can normal summon as much as you want in your turn, and at the start of your turn you draw until you have 5 cards in your hand. Special cards with the new layout seen on the earlier cards will be used in this format, so it won’t break the game thank goodness

One of the reasons I liked vrains so much was because their archetypes were really good in the actual game. It’ll be weird going from that to cards that can’t even be used in the TCG unless they get reprinted in the original card format

I am very fond of Sevens Road Magician though. He looks like a very friendly guy

My final point is the the series is probably called sevens because it’s the seventh series. Also the duel disk is shaped like a 7 which is pretty neat

Anyway, that’s all I have to say about the new info we’ve gotten. I guess we’ll have to wait until April so see how much I got right

Feel free to add on anything else you’ve noticed

[powerbottomblake]

RWBY:Ragnarok or predictions on the Atlas arc

Building on my previous post about how the RWBY arcs parallel seasons and the archetypal narrative structure linked to each season, I’ve established that Atlas corresponds to winter, aka themes of darkness, dissolution, the return of chaos, and the defeat of the heroic figure, but what I’m going to be developing here is how winter is linked to Götterdämmerung myths, a.k.a Ragnarok, otherwise known as the death of the gods in Norse mythology. So yes, Atlas is definitely a Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Time for our heroes.

The thing is, that isn’t the only Norse mythology allusion tied to Atlas, be it the cast, the location or the events of Ragnarok itself. This post will be about delving into all of these allusions and find how Ragnarok’s narrative beats find equivalents in RWBY and how it might help predict the Atlas endgame (or at least part of it) as well as figure out some general plot points.

But before that, I feel like you need to familiarize yourself with the G.U.N theory (though I don’t know if I’m 100% in the scope of it with this post). I think the person that best explained it in a concise way would be @alexkablob in this post but basically the nitty gritty of it is that all RWBY characters aren’t allusions to a single myth but have layers of different allusions to several myths, and decoding them makes it possible to predict the beats of their narrative. Think v6 made it all too obvious with how Adam was Prince Adam (a.k.a the Beast before any character development or growth), the Rose curse and Gaston all wrapped in one (plus some references to Anakin Skywalker too apparently!); or how Yang is Goldilocks, Beauty and the Beast simultaneously (amongst others).

So characters that you know are allusions to a certain myth/fairytale, might have allusions to other ones, less obvious but still just as significant in determining that character’s fate and their overarching character arc, and the Atlas arc of the story is just full of these other allusions, all Norse mythology themed.

I’ll start with the allusions tied to the central figure of Atlas’ plot, aka the man himself, James Ironwood, then branch out on the connected cast’s allusions and how they’d fill their respective roles in Atlas’ version of Ragnarok.

So, as we all know James Ironwood is supposed to be our Tinman from the wizard of Oz. Thing is Ironwood also refers to a location in Norse mythology, Járnviðr (literally old Norse for Iron-wood), where a witch gives birth to giant wolves that are alluded to as Fenrir’s kin, one of them in particular being dubbed snatcher of the moon, who will swallow the moon come Ragnarok.

Before delving deeper into this, who is Fenrir?

Fenrir is a monstrous wolf who’s bound until comes Ragnarok, where he breaks free, wreaks havoc on the realm of the gods, and kills Odin, the patriarch of the Norse mythology pantheon and one of its most powerful figures.

I’m gonna go ahead and assume that CRWBY will merge all the monstrous apocalyptic wolf figures into one because that’s the decision that makes the most sense, and I’m gonna refer to it as Fenrwby to differentiate it from the original Fenrir (listen I couldn’t come up with anything else).

So now we’ve established that Atlas harbors or will get invaded by this giant wolf, Fenrir, who announces the apocalypse and swallows the moon.

Damn, I wonder which character is always closely associated to moon symbolism, incidentally also alluding to a tale called Dead Moon (again @alexkablob got you covered) and whose death circumstances are still a mystery till now?

That’s right I think Fenrwby will be confirmed to be the reason Summer died. Another point that absolutely convinces me of it is that he(it?) refers to. A gigantic evil wolf. Or you could say. A Big Bad Wolf. And guess where Little Red Riding Hood is headed right now?

But before eating Little Red Riding Hood, the Wolf eats the grandmother first.

Yeah, this might very well be the last time Maria’s making the trip to Atlas.

But let’s go back to Ironwood. There’s yet another allusion to him and that’s the Norse god Tyr. Tyr was a war god, but also presided over law and justice, which aligns with Ironwood being leader of the military, headmaster and even has the Council (which I assume is executive and judicial power) bow to him.

Tyr’s most striking act and for which he’s most known though is that he’s sacrificed his arm when the gods first bound Fenrir, the arm the wolf bit off being the right one, and lo and behold:

James Ironwood is indeed missing a right arm (well a whole right side because he’s also Tinman, but you get me). From this we can already surmise that the mission Summer was sent over to was probably the containment of Fenrwby, and it cost Summer her life and Ironwood his right side.

That leaves us with one question: who/what is Fenrwby and where did he come from?

We’ll have to go back to the original myth for a bit here. In Norse Mythology, the trickster god Loki fathers three children with a giantess:  Hel, a woman that becomes a sort of queen of the Underworld, the world serpent Jörmungandr and the world wolf Fenrir. All three siblings are prophesied to be big trouble to the gods but what sets Fenrir apart is that:

He’s the one foretold to announce Ragnarok; his unbidding decides it

He’s the one destined to swallow Odin himself whole

He’s the only “hellish” sibling who’s raised right where the gods live, in Asgard

Beyond the similarity in how the names sound, I do believe Atlas’ design takes after Asgard and is meant to symbolize it.

For further reference here’s Marvel’s take on Asgard:

And here’s our first look at Atlas:

Atlas even has those threads attached to Mantle below which I suspect act as anchors + elevators/transportation conducts (most of it probably dedicated to Dust transport) between Mantle and Atlas, but also are a visual reference to Yggdrasil's roots, the Norse world tree, extending from Asgard to the other realms below.

So Fenrir is raised right in Asgard, but the wee pup is growing at an alarming rate (plus is prophesied to destroy all of it) so none of the gods is keen on approaching him. None except one brave god that is the only one to get close and feed him. And who would that be? That’s right, Tyr a.k.a our basis for Ironwood.

Ironwood hosting and hand-rearing a monster that will ultimately cause Summer’s death and the Atlaspocalypse sounds extremely unlikely, but there’s one scenario where this makes sense.

Atlas is known for its technological advancement and its constant development of new weaponry. I believe Fenrwby was born out of such a project, under the general leadership of Ironwood, but someone must have taken the experiments too far and ended up creating something so terrible Summer Rose herself (and maybe all or a combination of the remaining STRQ team), a silver-eyed warrior, had to be dispatched to neutralize, dying in the process.

Now is the time to remember that Fenrir is Loki’s son. In the original myth, Loki, an Asgardian god, gets eventually banished and during Ragnarok sides with the enemies.

So we’re basically looking for a disgraced Atlesian, who was possibly a scientist and is now currently working with the enemy.

And here is our Loki, none other than Arthur Watts himself, whose fallout with Atlas is yet to be explained.

I believe the reason he left Atlas was because he’s the one responsible for Fenrwby’s creation and in its immediate fallout, evaded arrest.

Another reason that leads me to believe Watts is our Loki is that Loki’s ties to Hel, Norse queen of the underworld, who was described to be “half-black and half flesh-colored”, which is a dead ringer for Salem.

Arthur Watts’ name also seems to refer to Arthur Conan Doyle and John Watson, the first one being the creator of Sherlock Holmes and the latter his dutiful companion and side-kick, so I believe Watts might be a combination of (evil) Sherlock and Watson. This is further supported with how Watts’ appearance seems to be a blend of both (Watson is described as tan, with a strong build and a moustache and Sherlock as tall and lean) and his outfit being Victorian-era inspired. He is referred to as Doctor by Salem, first to affirm his status as fallen scientist from Atlas but also most likely as a nod to Watson who was a skilled doctor and often would be referred to as Doctor as well. Sherlock Holmes is known to be an emotionally detached analytical machine with a caustic (and at times callous) kind of humor, having a usually dispassionate and cold demeanor, all of which match what we see of Watts. How is this linked to our Ragnarok? Well one of Sherlock Holmes’ most well-known stories, one where incidentally Watson has a very proactive and prominent role, is the Hound of the Baskervilles. The story is itself based on the legend of a “monstrously evil man” who sold his soul to the Devil (Salem) and after his death led a pack of phantom, evil hounds.

Evil hounds, monstrous wolves...Watts always gets linked to big bad canidae one way or the other.

Which brings us to our next question: now that we know who made Fenrwby, what exactly is Fenrwby?

Ok so this is the part where the theory gets tentative because there isn't much to go off of, so bear with me.

Watts is partly based on Sherlock Holmes, who is indifferent and detached usually, unless he's in the midst of an investigation. He then turns driven, getting tunnel-visioned and borderline obsessed (he can even go without food for so long he faints) until he solves the mystery. I think Watts is much the same. He carries himself with cool composure mostly but there was one instance where he showed a sort of zealous fascination: when he saw the seer Grimm.

Ok so I have an inkling that Watts is fascinated by the Grimm, and his forbidden experiments involved Grimm creatures. This is further supported by the Baskerville allusion to a pack of phantom hounds, which could very well reference the Grimm.

So going off this, Watts experimented on Grimm - since Atlas is very much wolf-themed, maybe Beowolfs? - and out of them he made Fenrwby.

But what could possibly be combined to Grimm in a way that’d defeat the combined forces of Ironwood (whose entire right side got severed) and an experienced silver eyed warrior like Summer?

I think we can make an educated guess based off the two major technological breakthroughs we got to witness during V1-3, namely Penny, the first synthetic being able to generate aura and the aura transfer machine. You’ll have guessed it, I think Atlas was dabbling into aura experimentation and Watts rerouted it to his own Grimm endeavors. What if he succeeded in equipping Grimm with something similar to Aura? Something that would hijack the Silver Eyes. I’m just bouncing ideas here but I’m pretty sure Fenrwby is the result of Watts tinkering with Aura and Grimm, and I think Watts staying with Salem is in large part because she’s the crystallization of the divide that fascinates him, being both human (having a soul, so in theory having aura) and grimm. Salem is the long running case study Watts is pursuing in a way.

So. Now that we’ve established what Fenrwby might be and who is behind it, we can delve into the narrative beats of Ragnarok. I made a synthetic list of Ragnarok events that seem relevant and connect to RWBY as a narrative:

Fenrir swallows Odin

I think Ozpin having Odin references in his character is common knowledge enough in the fandom. Odin is the king of Asgard, is associated with wisdom, knowledge and sorcery amongst other things, and is known for having two raven familiars (Raven and Qrow), all of which fit Ozpin.

What could Odin being swallowed mean for Oz and Oscar?

Of course, this could simply be an indication of Oz/Oscar fighting Fenrwby with Ruby, and losing.

But we can take it further. Oz lives inside Oscar through the merge between their souls, their auras connecting. We’ve established Atlas has been studying and experimenting on aura; Watts has most probably even toed the line of what is morally acceptable in terms of experiments. What if Fenrwby, or one of the machines Watts has been “tinkering with”, is able to sever the connection, effectively trapping Ozpin’s soul or at least sending it in another reincarnation cycle? This is a reach, I’ll admit, but something about Odin being swallowed somehow does not bode well for Ozpin.

Thor fights Jörmungandr

Can’t talk about Norse mythology without talking about Thor! And incidentally we have someone in the main cast based off him. I’ve always found it weird how V4 gives Ren a comprehensive backstory but never an explanation for how Nora is just there, beyond “random Kuroyuri orphan”  (How did she get orphaned? Why was she in Kuroyuri? Who were her parents?). I think Nora’s backstory will be fully explained in Atlas as I have a feeling Weiss isn’t the only one coming home. Thor’s home is Asgard after all.

So Thor fights the giant serpent that is Loki’s other son and Fenrir’s brother. One of Jörmungandr’s most striking features is his venom, as he’s described spraying it through air and sea, and it’s how he kills Thor even as he’s slayed by him, poisoning the god to his death.

Our Jörmungadr equivalent thus needs to wield poison, and be sired (or fixed) by Loki aka Watts. That would be Tyrian.

I believe we’ll have the second round of Team JNR vs Tyrian - as foreshadowed by Tyrian’s interest in Jaune - and it’ll end with Tyrian dying and Nora being gravely wounded.

The frost giants join the fray against the gods

I’ve already expanded on this in my previous post, but Jack Frost, Jacques’ fairy tale basis, is said to be based on the norse frost giants. This, coupled with the “Jack and the beanstalk” references, pushes me to think Jacques is going to betray and cause the death of Ironwood and help team W.T.C.H steal the relic.

Gamr, another big hellish hound, kills Tyr

Gamr is another monstrous hound who breaks free of his bindings in Ragnarok. As I said before, I believe all hounds/wolf imagery is going to be compounded in a single entity in RWBY (especially when they sometimes share identical characteristics), so this is Fenrwby getting free of whatever binding Summer put him under (maybe the Silver Eye power petrified him the way Ruby did the giant Nevermore?) and killing Ironwood.

Surtr, a fire giant from Muspelheim, the realm of fire, covers the entire world with fire with his flaming sword

Surtr is a fire giant that guards Muspelheim, a hot and glowing land of fire, and who sets the world on fire with his flaming sword at the end of Ragnarok. This signals the destruction of the world, but also announces its rebirth with the surviving gods and humans meeting afterwards and leading into a new era.

So the guardian of a sword of destruction (Vacuo’s relic), coming from a hot unforgiving land (Vacuo), crashes the fight. I believe this is when the Summer maiden gets introduced, and she uses the relic to end the fight and save the thoroughly defeated team RWBY so that everyone may escape to Vacuo as Atlas’ destruction is complete.

So, to TL;DR this extremely long post:

There is a Big Bad Wolf kind of monster/entity in Atlas I’m tentatively calling Fenrwby

Watts created this monster by dabbling into forbidden experimentation, probably on aura and grimm

Summer Rose sealed said monster but at the cost of her life and the fight cost Ironwood his right side

Fenrwby is unleashed on Atlas, either by Team W.T.C.H, accidentally by Ironwood, or a combination of both

Jacques sides with W.T.C.H and helps them steal the relic

Fenrwby kills Ironwood and Maria

Oz is either defeated, sealed away from Oscar or sent in another reincarnation loop

Nora is from Atlas and we get her extended backstory

Team JNR fight Tyrian and are able to defeat him but Nora is gravely wounded

the Summer maiden arrives in a bind and with the relic of destruction ends the fight and takes team RWBY to safety

[rhysand-vs-fenrys]

What to u like most about mythology?

*generic apology for losing my cool and making this a long ass answer because this is MY FAVORITE THING IN THE ENTIRE WORLD*

OMG, easily the history. Reading mythology is like reading a history book written in riddles, it’s amazing!!

So like, Greek, Roman (there is a difference!), tribal Etruscan, Old Testament, Egyptian, and even Phoenician mythologies all include a flood myth that breaks down to basically the same thing:

God(s) decide humanity have become little shits and a flood is needed to wipe them out and start fresh. Some chosen couple last-minute gain the favor of the god(s) and are deemed the designated survivors who, after the flood, will be responsible for rebuilding humanity.

And for a long time it was just accepted that this is a mediterranean-mythology thing.They all have some version of The Flood Myth.

Within the last couple-few decades, archaeologists have discovered evidence that  around 3,000 BC Vesuvius went from an underwater volcano to a mountain in a very short period of time. Like- 1 eruption that makes the famous Pompeii eruption of 79 AD look like a baby sneezing.

And to put that into perspective, he’s a photo of Vesuvius:

Vesuvius is that main bump on the right. That shit on the left that looks like another mountain getting all up in its space? That’s the upper 1/3 of Vesuvius that was blown off in the Pompeii eruption.

That’s fucking debris from a baby sneeze of an eruption.

The Big One was insane. Tremors would have been felt for thousands of miles. Archaeologists have found the footprints of people who were vaporized mid-step by the force of that explosion.

Again with the tremors- they were brutal. Earthquakes, land slides- at one point (either in the core explosion or the tremors before/after) the Strait of Gibraltar was filled or mostly-filled with debris.

Why is that important?

It’s how the water gets into the Mediterranean (well, the main source).

Historians estimate that the fallout from that Vesuvius eruption heated the waters of the sea, would have triggered some pretty catastrophic tidal waves and storms, and cut it off from the Atlantic.

Over an estimated 500-1,000 years, the Mediterranean shrunk as normal climate conditions pulled moisture up into the atmosphere and put it down elsewhere. Typical weather stuff- except again, the Mediterranean was corked.

As new land was exposed humans likely moved closer and closer to the water’s edge, building homes and even basic villages in the new areas.

Now, there’s some disagreement on what happened next because we haven’t caught up with decoding the whole story yet. There may have been an earthquake, another (softer) eruption from either Vesuvius or Etna, or possibly something happening elsewhere that triggered a tsunamis/storm surge- maybe a little bit of everything over time or just natural erosion– either way, the debris choking Gibraltar all the sudden caved and the Atlantic came home.

Obviously the closer you were to Gibraltar the more catastrophic the tidal wave, but either way, the sea started rising again, flooding land that humans probably had no record of ever being underwater before. Cold water crashing into hot (and again, there may have been a freak storm or something riding this wave) triggered cataclysmic rains in the area and wild weather events.

Every mythology in the Mediterranean has some mention of a Great Flood, and for thousands of years we treated it as mythology until historians figured out what happened! A whole chapter of history was missing!

Here’s my other little favorite part of that, and it’s kind of where historians are leaning right now: What’s one other famous Great Flood story? A city that mythology has always told us would have been right smack dab in front of Gibraltar and therefore in the path of maximum destruction? Atlantis.

It’s possible a city existed by that  name once upon a time (obviously not with flying machines and such. Look, when people living in mud-and-shit huts say you’re magically advanced, you might just have wood walls), but that it was destroyed when that first wall of water came flying in.

So that’s why I love mythology so much. It’s history from before people really thought to record it. Many mythological events have turned out to be legit (TROY!)- it’s just that the stories were preserved through a lense of religion and superstition. 

It’s so fucking interesting!!!!!

Update: I ranted so much about my love of mythology in the tags that tumblr deleted half of them XD

[ebaeschnbliah]

ABOUT  THE  MEANING  OF  SERIES  ONE

________________________________________________________________

INTRODUCTION - USER MANUAL - CHAPTER LIST

A little while ago I made a short summary and overview of my ideas and theories regarding the events round the ‘Reichenbach Fall’ - including (mostly) the episodes ASIB, THOB, TRF and TEH - I called it: The Big Question. 

This new post can be seen as a prequel to The Big Question. It deals with the episodes of Series One (including the Unaired Pilot). Unlike the other post, this is less about a possible decoding of the actual stories told in those episodes, but more about the probable funktion of Series One as ...

introduction (ASIP)

user manual (TBB)

chapter list (TGG)

,,, for Sherlock BBC as a whole. If S1 - and especially TGG - is, what I think it is, perhapst TGG as the ‘chapter list’ could provide some interesting hints regarding a possible continuation of the stoy, that feels at the end of TFP still very unfinished.

Enjoy this idea if you like under the cut ...

UNAIRED PILOT  &  A STUDY IN PINK

The most important function is, of course, the introduction of the main characters

Sherlock Holmes

Dr. John Watson

Mrs. Martha Louise Hudson - landlady not the housekeeper 

Dr. Molly Hooper - pathologist 

DI Greg Lestrade

DS Sally Donovan (different actors in PILOT & ASIP)

Philip Anderson - forensic scientist (wears a beard in PILOT)

Therapist Ella Thompson

Jeff Hope - serial killer 

Mycroft Holmes (online appearance in PILOT)

Moriarty (name mentioned only ASIP)

Some interesting details of PILOT

The very first e-mail Sherlock opens is from Mycroft. He asks online for his brothers advice regarding ‘an impossible situation’. Sherlock answers with the famous canon Holmes quote: ‘When you have eliminated the impossible whatever remains must be the truth.’

Sherlock calls John ‘good, old Dr. Watson’ only hours after their aquaintance. This phrase is from the last paragraph of the last canon story His Last Bow and it continues: “You are the one fixed point in a changing age. There’s an east wind coming … ”

John shoots serial killer Jeff Hope from the house opposite 221b Baker Street. In the canon story The Empty House, this is the spot Colonel Moran (right hand man of Prof. Moriarty and only survivor of his criminal network) chooses for his planned assassination of Sherlock Holmes. He gets caught in his own trap. 

The topics ‘chess’, ‘playing the game’ and ‘a choice between two different options’ appear for the first time and will turn out to become a recurring theme through all currently existing episodes.

Ella, the ‘changeable’ therapist is later in the story replaced by a dead therapist in an airing cupboard, then by Elsa who finally turns out to be Eurus/Sherlock

Near the end of the episode a dog barks in the night … and dogs too will become a main theme that runs throughout the whole story, culminating in RedBeard. (Shoes for the Hound  Dogs of the Mind Palace)

ASIP is, basically, a repetition of PILOT. The main differences (among some strange and seemingly unnecessary ones X) are: 

The barking of a dog can be heard again. This time though at the beginning of the episode, immediately after John wakes from his nightmare and before he meets Sherlock for the first time (X)

Instead of five, ther are four victims. All of them get names. The phone of Jennifer Wilson, the pink lady, can be located by a tracking device called ‘MePhone’ (MyHeart?)

While in PILOT Sherlock approaches the killer, in ASIP it is the killer who approaches Sherlock (X X)

The final confrontation between detective and killer is moved from 221b Baker Street to a public school. John shoots Jeff Hope from the twin building of the school opposite

While in PILOT John throws his gun into the Thames, he keeps it in ASIP

Mycroft Homes appears in person and, at first, incognito. He declares himself to be Sherlock’s ‘arch enemy’. This leads to the assumption that he could be Holmes’ famous antagonist from canon … Professor James Moriarty. Only by the end of the episode it becomes clear that the mysterious man is actually Sherlock’s older brother

Another main character is added .… Moriarty. He is the sponsor of serial killer Hope and a ‘fan’ of Sherlock Holmes. To introduce Moriarty already in the first episode is a major divergence from canon in this adaptation

THE BLIND BANKER

This episode seems to serve as an ‘user manual’ for the whole story which indicates how ‘the game is played’ by introducing certain elements that will recur again and again in different variations:

locked murder mysteries and a killer who can break into everywhere

protections of high security facilities are bypassed or fail or suddenly cease to exist

secret informations, ancient cypers, codes, hidden messages and the indication that there will be a regular change of those codes by using a different book (a different story/a different stage play?)

the search for something very small but most valuable (a memory?)

the past is important (valuable information is found at the National Antiquities Museum=history)

smuggling things of great wealth connected to the East (past?) …. drugs and antiquities  (chemistry of love and memories out of the past?)

theatre stages on different levels, masks and disguises (X)

character mirrors ((Soo Lin//Sherlock;  Liang ‘Zhi Zhu’//Mycroft & Jim Moriarty (the brother and the spider);  Andy//John;  city boy Van Coon//Sherlock;  freelance journalist Lukis//John)

character switching (at the circus (on stage) John becomes Sherlock, Dr. Sarah Sawyer becomes Dr. John Watson)

family dynamics: sibling rivalry, dead parents, orphans

criminal networks (emotions?) connected to disused transport routes  (bodily functions?)

the mysterious character M lurks in the background and pulls the strings of a criminal network (Mycroft, Moriarty, Mary, Moran, Magnusson, Molly, Mummy, ME//Sherlock himself? His own worst enemy?)

people behind masks .... a veiled attacker with a sword, a masked escapist who needs to break free in time before he gets shot, a masked attacker from behind … all of them from the ‘East’

a dangerous ‘dragon’ also from the East (because every ‘dragon slayer’ needs his dragon?)

a sister from the East who knows how to decipher the code

key-locations:  high up in the sky (bank//Bart’s roof//CAM Tower) and underground (dragon den black tramway//Sumatra Station//London Aquarium)

things sitting behind glass that should be out in the open and used

the art of tea making

being observed and the sign of the eye (X X)

assassins pretending to kill Sherlock but don't do it because they want something from him

the period of …  ‘five years ago’ 

a desired relationship that doesn’t come to pass

John fighting with a ‘machine’ (Sherlock?)

German language (X)

things coming in pairs (X)

secret tattoos

spiderwebs (X)

pouring water, rain, spilled water by Sherlock as well as his attacker

cats (golden lucky cats and lions) 

a dog (Chow-Chow) hiding in plain sight

the colour yellow (X X)

William (one of 13 by the end of TAB)

Most likely this list could be continued ….

THE GREAT GAME

This episode looks very much like a chapter list for the whole story.

The ‘cold’ cases in combination with the new ones become very explosive. As it turns out in the end, every single case is connected to or planned by Jim Moriarty, the master criminal who later calls himself Mr. Sex.

The episode starts with a case in Minsk, the East (the past?) which Sherlock dismisses. Then 221b is hit by a massive explosion from the outside and right after that, Mycroft turns up with an urgent case regarding the missing plans for a very important defense system … called the Bruce-Partington-Plans. Sherlock pretends to dismiss this case too. Instead he puts his ‘best man’ - John - onto it. 

5 PIPS - 5 DOUBLE-CASES .... A CHAPTER LIST for 5 SERIES?

The explosion opposite 221b reveals a pink phone (identical to that in ASIP but new) and leads to a series of cold cases, each one announced by a backwards countdown of five Greenwich pips. And each of those cold cases starts with the abduction of a seemingly random person … 

a middle-aged woman

a young man

a blind old lady

a child

John Watson

Sherlock has to solve the cold cases in time, in order to prevent the death of the victims who are strapped to vests full of explosive material. Sherlock is eager to play that game, assuming he knows who is behind it.

The first pip - the first case - Series ????

A pair of shoes, dissappeared twenty years ago, reappears mysteriously in the basement 221C Baker Street (Sherlock’s subconscious?). They lead Sherlock back in time to his first case … the unacknowledged and therefore still unsolved death of Carl Powers, a champion swimmer who had a fit in the water and drowned during a school tournament. During the investigation Sherlock makes the aquaintance of ‘Jim from IT’. Though Sherlock can prove in time that Carl Powers had indeed been murdered, the identity of the murderer stays in the dark. 

The bombing victim - a middle-aged woman sitting in a car on a car park -  survives.

The first of the Greenwich pip cases feels suspiciously like the beginning of a story that stays unsolved and is still untold by the end of The Final Problem in Series Four.

The second pip - the second case - Series Two

Banker Ian MONKford disappears. Only the car he rented a day before his disappearance turns up with a lot of MONKford’s blood on the seat. It doesn’t take long for Sherlock to deduce that the missing man has faked his death, that his wife is in on the plan and that the car hire company JanusCars has helped with the execution of the fraud … including MONKford’s journey to Columbia in South America. Special feature of interest: half of Columbia is dominated by the high summits of the Andes (5775m) and sadly, that country is also one of the largest exporter of cocain worldwide.

The bombing victim - a young man standing on a traffic island at Piccadilly Circus - survives.  

The second of the Greewich pip cases has a lot in common with Sherlock’s own fake suicide and the events following The Reichenbach Fall. Fake blood on a ‘borrowed’ body (car). People being in on the plan. Janus-faced Mycroft and his agents providing the means for Sherlock to go undercover … at first apparently in Tibet (according to the following episodes MHR and TEH). Sherlock lives, disguised as a MONK, in a monastery high up in the Himalayan mountains, where he exposes a blond drug smuggler who had infiltrated the monks. 

The third pip - the third case - Series Three

Connie Prince, a media TV star and famous for her ‘make-over’ (cover up) programmes, dies. After a quick investigation, Sherlock knows that she has been murdered by Raoul de Santos, her house boy, who is the lover of Connie’s brother Kenny. After a severe dispute the ‘big’ sister threatened to disiherit the brother, whom she constantly bullied and ridiculed. Raoul de Santos, who had grown accustomed to a certain lifestyle, took revange and poisoned his lover’s  sister. Sherlock solves the case and Raoul de Santos goes to prison while Kenny stays back with Sekhmet, his sister’s cat. 

The  bombing victim - a blind, old lady - dies, because she starts to describe the bomber’s soft voice. The presumed gas explosion, caused by a shot at the explosive filled vest the old lady was wearing, claims 12 lives in total. 

The third of the Greewich pip cases resurfaces again in Series Three in form of a multilayered story carried out by several character mirrors … vividly indicated by the refelctions on the mirror panes in HLV. Basically this happens: the case doesn’t start but ends with a ‘big one’ being murdered ... Magnusson (’son of the great’), the media mogul who bullies, ridicules and blackmails anyone whom he deems useful for his purposes. Magnusson threatens to expose Mary’s secret, which she fears could cause the break-up of her established relationship with John. But it is Sherlock who decides that a certain lifestyle should be maintained. He takes revange, kills Magnusson and is ready to go to prison/exile while Mary stays back with John.

The fourth pip - the fourth case - Series Four

The case of Alex Woodbridge, a security man who loved to gaze through big lenses at the stars, before he was suffocated and thrown into the water of the Thames, leads Sherlock to the painting of an old master. Sherlock knows right from the start that it is fake but he still has to prove it. The Golem, a killer who is known for executing people with his big hands, is hired to keep the secret of the fake painting. He tries to stop Sherlock as well, but John comes to his aid. The Golem escapes. Time is quickly running out. In contrast to the privious cases, the bombing victim, a child, is only revealed near the end. But no visuals are given. Just a scared voice on a phone calling for help. No location where the abducted child is held captive either. Instead Sherlock is confronted with a countdown from 10 to 1. He finds the required proof in the very last seconds … the Van Buren Supernova …. a massive explosion that happened not earlier but later than indicated. 

Sherlock solves that case and the child survives.

The fourth of the Greenwich pip cases contains several key elements which play also an important role in Serious Four. There is a strong connection to water: ‘When does the path we walk on lock around our feet? When does the road become a river with only one destination?’. Fake identities (masks/spray tan) are revealed. A serial killer appears, who prefers to suffocate people with his bare hands. Scared children are begging for help, either high up in the sky on a falling plane or deep down in the ground in a flooding well. Old family paintings and modern family pictures are moved into focus. There’s a countdown from 10 to1. A massive explosion, caused by the so called ‘patience (passions) grenade’, hits 221b. One could describe that explosion as ‘postponed’ because it could have happened earlier in the story … at the pool where little Carl died …. at Guy Fawkes Night under the parliament … but it happens later.

The fifth pip - the fifth case - Series Five?

The fifth case is a hidden one. There is no Greenwich pip for it. The case starts before all the other cases, right after 221b is hit by the explosion across the street … where the canonical ‘empty house’ is located. It is Mycroft who brings that case to Baker Street. Plans for a very important defence system have gone missing … the Bruce Partington plans. It’s the case Sherlock pretends to dismiss. He lets Mycroft believe that he has put John onto it. He doesn’t tell John anything either. Sherlock keeps completely silent about that one and tries to keep everyone in the dark. But it seems that Sherlock is very well aware of the importance of this case …. the case of the stolen DEFENCE SYSTEM plans. 

In contrast to the previous four Greenwich pip cases, which are each treated in one block, the individual parts of the Bruce Partington case are embedded in the others. After Mycroft has delivered the basis informations, three visual scenes are presented, each one accompanied by the sounds of a barking dog:

1 - While Sherlock investigates Carl Powers’ shoes, John visits Mycroft to get more details about the Bruce Partington case. The visuals appear in form of a flashback. That flashback is followed by Sherlock who still investigates the shoes and now discovers the poison involved in the murder of Carl Powers.

2 - A text message from Mycroft reaches John right after he has completed his investigations at Woodbridge’s flat. At the same time Sherlock turns up at the Hickman Gallery and talks to Mrs. Wenceslas. John visits Westie’s and Lucy’s flat to gain more informations regarding the missing plans. When he comes back to Baker Street, Sherlock already waits for him and they set out to the Vauxhall Arches, where they will meet the Golem.

3 - Right after Sherlock has solved the Van Buren Supernova case, John receives another impatient text message from Mycroft but only after wrapping the Van Buren case in Scotland Yard, he is able to investigate the railway tracks where Westie was found dead. Sherlock joins him there and though he admitts that he hadn’t dismissed his brother’s case at all, he doesn’t reveal anything else. Together they visit Joe Harrison’s flat and Sherlock confronts the man with his investigations. A flashback accompanies Joe’s confession and reveals what really happened to Westie and the Bruce Partington plans. 

Now Sherlock has the missing plans in his hands. Yet, he doesn’t reveal the true meaning of the case. Instead he misleads John even more by claiming that his brother’s case had been nothing but a ‘distraction of the game’ and that the last Greenwich pip is still missing.

SHERLOCK: Distraction over, the game continues. JOHN: Well, maybe that’s over, too. We’ve heard nothing from the bomber. SHERLOCK: Five pips, remember, John? It’s a countdown. We’ve only had four.

And when John asks him about the whereabouts of the plans, Sherlock tells him another downright lie and pretends that he has returned the plans into his brothers hands.

JOHN: Have you given Mycroft the memory stick yet? SHERLOCK: Yep. He was over the moon. Threatened me with a knighthood – again.

But the very moment John has left the flat, Sherlock contacts the mysterious bomber and arranges a secret meeting to hand over the Bruce Partington plans … interestingly at the same pool where once little Carl Powers died. This means that Sherlock associates the plans of the DEFENSE SYSTEM not only with the outstanding fifth pip but also with the first pip of ‘the great game’. And his first words at the pool confirm, that it’s not his brother’s case which Sherlock considers to be the ‘distraction’ but the other cases of the ‘game’.

SHERLOCK: Brought you a little getting-to-know-you present. Oh, that’s what it’s all been for, hasn’t it? All your little puzzles; making me dance – all to distract me from this.

Despite Sherlock’s conviction that he knows what’s going on, a completely unexpected surprise awaits him at the pool. The bomber finally reveals himself as criminal mastermind Jim Moriarty (the former Jim from IT). He admits that he is the one responsible for Carl’s death twenty years ago as well as being the creative mind behind the ‘great game’. Shockingly, the fifth bombing victim turns out to be John.

There is no solution for the fifth case in The Great Game. The episode ends on an explosive cliffhanger. A stand-off between consulting detective and consulting criminal. No one dies because Irene Adler - Mrs. Sex - enters the stage per phone call, before Sherlock can bring himself to shoot the bomb vest … and kill them all. 

The most interesting features of the FIFTH CASE …. especially with regards to a possible FIFTH SERIES of Sherlock BBC

There is no Greenwich pip for the fifth case:

maybe because the last case is actually also the first case?

the end runs a full circle back to the beginning?

Two main characters are dramatically moved into focus:

Dr. John Watson - good old Dr. Watson, the one fixed point in a changing age

Jim Moriarty - the changable criminal mastermind who calls himself Reichenbach … Rich Brook

The fifth case connects two different cases:

an old one (the twenty years old murder of Carl Powers)

a modern one (the missing Bruce-Partington Plans - the very important DEFENSE SYSTEM of the government) 

The fifth case also combines two ‘first cases’:  

the missing shoes of Carl Powers, found in 221c Baker Street, are marked with the first of the Greenwich pips. Additional this case is called ‘Sherlock’s first case’, the case where he began. 

Mycroft’s request/order to retrieve the missing Bruce-Partington Plans, is the first case for Sherlock after the explosion opposite 221 Baker Street

Both cases ultimately end(ed) in the water of the same pool

Carl Powers 

Bruce-Partington Plans

Both cases are initiated by Jim Moriarty … Rich Brook … Reichenbach

All in all ... the case of the missing DEFENSE SYSTEM is defined by absolute secrecy. Sherlock lies, conceals, deflects and hides his intentions and actions from the moment the case is presented to him. He tells no one, confides in no one … not even John. 

Sherlock assumes he knows … and yet, what a massive rug pull is waiting for him at the pool ….

Deep waters, Sherlock, all your life. In all your dreams. Deep waters. 

Related earlier posts regarding the idea of TGG functioning as a ‘chapter list’: FOUR STAGES & FOUR CASES (stages inside stages) and THE FIVE HOSTAGES (foreshadowing of five episodes). 

I leave you to your own deductions. Thanks @callie-ariane for the scripts. 

The three promo pics for S1 (ASIP, TBB, TGG) can be found here

December, 2018

@gosherlocked @sherlockshadow @sarahthecoat @possiblyimbiassed @raggedyblue @sagestreet @loveismyrevolution @spenglernot @devoursjohnlock @waitedforgarridebs

[literupture]

Playin’ the Odds

[AO3] | [FFN]

Summary: Things might not be perfectly set up, but Vallory's taking her chances.

Rating: Explicit

Ship: The Drifter x Female Guardian

    "I'm starting to get tired of picking up these... things," Vallory groaned, uprooting the glowing datalattice from its perch on a rocky slate. She wasn't even sure what datalattices were, but she knew that the resource had its uses. At least, she'd seen her Ghost use them on her gear before, and the armor felt stronger afterwards, more durable.

    "We just need a few more to get us to a comfortable amount, Val," assured Bacon, her Ghost. "Then we'll be at a nice, round number." He hovered near his Titan's left elbow while she harvested the luminous, digital-looking material. His multi-faceted shell was a sleek maroon, similar in color to some of the plants Vallory had seen on this planet. When she finished removing the datalattlice, he quickly scanned it with his neon-blue eye, and then transmatted it to their supplies.

    "Ugh, I'm just dying to punch something," Vallory sighed. She stood up straight, stretched her arms, then lazily looked around for the location of the next nearest datalattice marked by her ghost. Nessus, the unstable centaur that they were on, was pretty, but Val would much rather be shooting or punching the planet's invasive Vex. For some reason, her gathering trip had so far been uninterrupted by any enemies. From under her obsidian-colored helmet, she frowned, but hopped down the mesa towards the marked location.

    Heavy greaves hit the earth with a thud, and a small flock of crimson birds shot out of a nearby tree. Vallory paused to watch the birds fly overhead. The wildlife on Nessus was vibrant and unfamiliar to her; she wondered why a planet mostly converted by a race of hostile machines provided an excellent tropical environment for animals to thrive.

    I'll leave that to the scientists, Vallory thought. She was certain that the archives at the Tower had plenty of information on this planetoid--not that she would actually get around to poring over those dusty tomes. She'd probably ask Karyna and Entropy-4 later; thankfully both of her Warlock friends were well-read.

    A loud hissing sound, like static blaring from a loudspeaker, broke her from her reverie. She whipped around to see a hazy, computerized cloud appear above the cliff near where she had been standing only moments before. 

    Vex.

    The promise of combat injected a wave of adrenaline into her body. Vallory drew her hand cannon from its holster on her waist with speed and ease--something that she'd done so many times that it felt as natural to her as breathing. She sprinted towards a large rock formation and slid into a crouch behind it.

    Vallory peeked around her cover to see a group of Vex arrive. Her eyes passed over each enemy, assessing their ranks. The group appeared to be five bronze Vex Goblins and two Hobgoblins, accompanied by a single, massive Vex Minotaur.

    She watched as a trio of Goblins scanned the area with their red eyes. The remaining pair crouched to study the remnants of a datalattice--the one she had plucked earlier. The two Hobgoblins flanked the Minotaur, giving no sign of movement except for their swishing, whip-like tails.

    "I think that's a transport party," Bacon whispered over his Guardian's pauldron. "Might be carrying a bunch of loot."

    She gave her Ghost a silent nod. The Minotaur raised a silver limb, and after emitting a series of beeps, a wide chest appeared at its feet. 

    Vallory saw her opportunity. In one second the machine lowered a weaponized arm; in the next, a vicious crack rang out as its arm was blown off and sent clattering to the ground.

    The group of Vex turned to face the direction of the shot. Vallory had left her cover and was standing tall with her gun cocked. She felt the heat of the barrel through her gauntlets--a comfortable warmth that belonged to her. An angry sounding beep came from one of the Vex, something akin to a war cry, and they moved to engage her.

    Val sheathed her gun and reached out to the Light. She made a sweeping motion with her arm, and summoned a luminous purple Void shield. The Vex had begun shooting at her. She drew up her shield to block the incoming damage, but a few stray metal rounds pierced her armor. A sharp pain arose in her side, but she ignored it. She ran to the nearest Goblin and slammed into it with her shield, instantly killing it. 

    The Vex Hobgoblins charged and fired their line rifles at her. One laser was blocked by her shield, but the other clipped her thigh. It cut through the surface of her leg plates, searing her light blue skin. She cried out in pain, but turned that pain into fury and threw her shield at one of the Hobgoblins with great force. The shield cut through the first one's head with Void energy, then it pinballed to the second Hobgoblin, decapitating it. Their metal bodies disintegrated in a Void-purple haze.

    Her shield returned to her; she lunged to the next Goblin and rammed into it. She did the same to the remaining Goblins, zipping between her enemies until all that was left was the hulking Minotaur before her. 

    Her shield vanished, its energy depleted. The Minotaur stared down at her, raising a pointed arm above its head. It beeped thrice as it brought its arm down on Vallory. 

    She sidestepped and countered with a Void-charged punch to the machine's frame. It staggered backwards, Void particles tearing away at its surface, and Vallory drew her shotgun from her back. She fired three quick blasts at the small luminescent triangle on its abdomen. The triangle burst, spewing sizzling radiolarian fluid onto the earth. The Minotaur crumpled over, its torso falling away from the rest of its body, and the single bright red eye on its head faded as it died.

    With the enemies neutralized, Vallory turned to the black supply chest. She noted that the chest itself did not appear to be of Vex origin, so it was likely stolen goods. Bacon reappeared at her side, scanned his Guardian, and proceeded to heal her. She steadied her breathing while her Ghost fussed over her, and within moments her injuries were gone.

"A little messy, but nice job," Bacon observed. He floated near Val's shoulder, his gaze moving to the chest at her feet. "Now let's see what goods these Vex were transporting."

Val crouched down in front of the chest and pressed a thumb into the latch. It popped open, its contents shining in the sun. Within the chest were stalks of datalattlices partially buried by blue heaps of glimmer. 

"Nice! That's exactly the amount we needed!" Her Ghost exclaimed, but Vallory wasn't really paying attention. She was staring down into the chest, focusing on how the stalks and the glimmer reminded her of a pleasant memory.

She smiled at how the stalks and glimmer resembled glass bottles of liquor among a bed of ice. It had only been a couple of weeks since the Tower had held its annual barbecue, and Val remembered reaching into a similarly shaped cooler to retrieve a couple of beers. She had skillfully balanced the drinks and two plates of hot food all the way to The Drifter's hideout. She'd been careful not to draw any attention making her way to him, and as a result they'd had a nice dinner together. They'd laughed and flirted at each other between bites, but it was only playful flirting, and neither of them had acted upon it--much to her disappointment. Still, she'd enjoyed the company of her shady friend; she found herself wondering when they would hang out next.

"Val? Everything okay?" Bacon had slipped underneath the space between her arm and the supply chest. He looked up at her, the corners of his shell twisted with concern.

"Uh... yeah," she replied, clearly distracted.

She blinked away the memory and stood up. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm good. Let's grab this loot and go." 

The Tower was seemingly filled to the brim with people. After dropping off her jumpship at the Hangar, Vallory transmatted herself down to the Tower's courtyard, and for a moment, she was surprised at how crowded it was. Employees decked in their bluish-grey work uniforms were everywhere; some were clustered in groups assigning and discussing their duties, others were transporting equipment to opposite ends of the headquarters, and a few hung by the Postmaster's booth--likely on break, since they were holding paper cups and chatting excitedly.

Alongside the chatter, power tools roared and whirred. On most days, the commotion from construction crews and mechanics was isolated to the Hangar, but today there were groups working here in the upper level. There were maintenance workers and builders decked in protective gear, finishing walls and reinforcing the architecture. 

Vanguard employees weren't the only ones swarming the headquarters. Civilians were dismounting the elevator and walking towards the Bazaar, and the Eververse booth and Cryptarch stall both had lines of Guardians. Vallory didn't see anyone she recognized, and she wasn't really in the spending mood. She did, however, have a few engrams to decode, so she made her way to the Cryptarch. 

At the end of the line stood a human Hunter wearing a tattered and red-hooded cloak. The rest of his gear was black fabric, fitted to his slim figure. His head was down and he was idly tapping at his communication tablet. His Ghost--a floating yellow diamond--was rotating its shell impatiently and spouting random observations of passerby. The hunter didn't seem to be paying attention, but for every few comments his Ghost made, he grunted in marginal acknowledgement.

Vallory leaned to take a peek at the front of the line. Master Rahool, the City's Cryptarch, stood with his palms outward and raised, and was attempting to calm down a fuming Warlock. The Warlock was clearly upset, and though there was clear frustration in their voice, they were trying their best not to make a scene. Val overheard enough to gather that the Warlock was not pleased with the engrams that Rahool had decrypted, and they were expressing their lack of satisfaction with his work over the past few months. 

Vallory sighed. At this rate, she'd be standing here for at least another hour, maybe even two.

Her Ghost materialized beside her. "Bored?" Bacon inquired, looking at his Titan with slight amusement. Val nodded. "Well, we could always come back later. Grab a bite to eat. Maybe do a mission or a couple Crucible rounds." He twirled his shell as he spoke, the afternoon sun reflecting on its surface.

"Hmm." Vallory pursed her lips, considering her options. She was always up for some food, but she wasn't too hungry at the moment. She thought about Crucible, but she wasn't really feeling that, either. "Yeah, none of those really sound appealing to me right now."

Bacon dipped slightly, as if to shrug. "There's always... that other thing," he whispered. The thing that they were specifically told to keep quiet about. Gambit.

Val bit her lip. She'd be lying if she said she didn't want to see The Drifter. If even seeing him for a few minutes meant that she could flirt with him, she'd gladly take that opportunity. Besides, he appeared to show some interest in her; Drifter never reacted poorly to her suggestive remarks, even flirting in return, and she'd seen subtle hints in his body language. The man was shrouded in mystery, though, so it was difficult to say for certain what his intentions were. However, Val was confident their interactions would lead to something, eventually. 

"Yeah... Okay. Why not?" she said slowly. "But uh, only if he's not busy. I don't want to stop waiting here just to go wait elsewhere." 

"You got it. I'll start up the comm link with him."

She fished a small wireless communicator from her belt, and pushed it into her ear. There was a bit of static, so she tried to adjust its position, but the static persisted.

"Sorry, there's a lot of interference. Likely because it's so busy today. I'll try my best to stabilize it."

The static continued, but a soft chime informed her that the connection was established. 

"Heeey." A smile tugged at the corner of Vallory's lips as The Drifter's smooth voice sounded in her ear. "It--shhh--Chosen One," 

The line cut out a bit, causing Val to furrow her eyebrows. Bacon looked at her apologetically and concentrated on holding the connection's frequency.

"Hey, hot stuff," Vallory replied, then braced herself for the adjacent Hunter's reaction. He didn't seem to hear it--or perhaps he did, but didn't care. The Hunter's Ghost swiveled to glance at her, then rolled its eye and went back to people-watching.

The Drifter let out a chuckle, but because there was interference, Val only heard bits of his laughter. "You gonna--shhhh--down here?"

She knew what he was trying to say, but her mind instinctively conjured dirty thoughts. "Oh, I'll be there," she added suggestively.

Val could hear the smile in his voice, even with the static in the feed. "You better be ready to bang--"

The connection dropped. Vallory felt her face getting hot.

She plucked the device from her ear and slipped it back into the pouch on her belt. A grin spread across her face as she took a step back and out of the line, nearly bumping into another Titan. He looked up briefly, then crossed his arms. 

"You can have my spot."

Val turned and hurried down the hallway, towards the staircase that connected the courtyard to the bazaar. There was a renewed vigor in her stride, but she managed to slip through the passerby without bumping into anyone. She was especially careful not to knock over any children or elderly.

"Wait, why are you...?" Bacon floated at her shoulder, trying to keep up with his Guardian's speed. Val had already safely cleared the second flight of stairs. "Val, I don't think--"

"Hush," Val cut him off. Then added gently, "Just let me have this."

Bacon let out an exasperated sigh. When his Guardian set her mind to something, it was difficult to steer her from that path. "Oh, fine," he surrendered. "I'll leave you to it, then. Just summon me if you need me. And... good luck."

Vallory turned to offer her Ghost an appreciative smile. "Thanks."

She weaved through the crowd in the connecting tunnel. The flow of the crowd was divided, with people on the right entering the tunnel and the people on the left side leaving. There was so much chatter that she could only faintly hear the dangling of wind chimes overhead as people passed through. When she felt that she was nearing the exit, she made a right, and was glad to find that her muscle memory deposited her at the entrance to The Drifter's corner. She'd frequented his hallway so often that its pale green light was no longer eerie, but welcoming. She slid underneath the gate and prayed that she would be the rogue Lightbearer's only company.

 "Hey there, hero. Here for some Gambit?"

Val, now on the other side of the gate, stood and turned to find the owner of that smooth voice--The Drifter--alone. The corner of her mouth curved into a smirk. Good. 

She placed both of her hands on the bottom of the gate and pulled it downward. The metal let out a low screech as it moved, then clanged as hit the floor. She could only faintly hear the commotion of the Bazaar now.

"What's all this, then?" The Drifter asked, his tone curious, but Val sensed that he was just a tad alarmed. She crossed the floor toward him with such speed and urgency that when she pinned him against the far wall, he was reaching for the gun at his waist. She had anticipated his reflexes, though, so she grabbed his wrist and held it. She brought her face close to his and gazed into his icy blues, desire clear in her half-lidded eyes.

The Drifter let out a small chuckle. "What can I do for ya?" She knew he was playing coy; he had a wicked grin displayed on his face as he watched her.

"You've got something I need," Val breathed against him. Normally the air smelled of crude oil, but that was just the workshop. Now, with her face inches from his, she inhaled the scent of him; The Drifter smelled of smoke from a fire pit, mixed with the mildest amount of maple. She brought her lips near his throat and continued in a sultry voice. "Something that I've been needing for a while now."

"And what might that be?" he replied, his tone cool, but his breathing giving away his anticipation. Val felt his breath on her skin--hot and moist--and she could feel her body reacting to its warmth.

"Maybe I'll give you a hint."

She touched her soft lips against his skin ever so lightly. She could see his pulse quickening on the side of his throat, and she felt her own pulse speed up as well. The edge of his beard brushed against her face.

She parted her lips and ran the tip of her tongue slowly from his collarbone, right up to that pulse in his neck. She could taste the salt on him, and she heard him suck in air through his teeth.

Then she bit him near the base of his neck. Not too hard, but just enough that the arm she was holding tensed. She released her grip on his gauntlet and was pleased that he no longer reached for his gun, but moved his hand to the small of her back. He pressed her body against his, needing more of her touch, and Val became aware of how much gear the two of them wore. 

With his right hand, The Drifter tipped up Val's face until they were only inches apart. His eyes locked with hers, and she saw something she'd never seen behind those blue eyes--lust. His gaze moved to her full, red lips. He hesitated, looking briefly at her bright eyes, but when he saw that they shared the same hunger, he pressed his lips against hers.

It was a crushing kiss. Their mouths moved together, exploring each other's shapes. Val nipped at The Drifter's lower lip playfully, and he responded by sliding his tongue into her mouth. Their tongues writhed against each other--wrestling, tasting. When his tongue moved into her mouth again, she sucked on it hard, and The Drifter's chest rumbled as he moaned in pleasure.

Now his gloves were gliding against her armor, searching the ends for fasteners. She figured she'd save him the trouble, so she broke the kiss and undid the latches of her chest plate. She pulled her gauntlets off and dropped them to the floor, then removed her chest plate and dropped it on top of the gauntlets. She bent to undo the latches of her greaves and stepped out of them, tossing them onto the pile of her gear.

When she stood up, she was wearing only a black thermal shirt and tight shorts. She found him watching her intently, his eyes taking in her curves. He let out a whistle.

"Always figured you had some killer curves under all that armor," he observed. Val grinned at him; she'd been complimented by previous lovers many times before, but this compliment was unique to him. "Glad to see I was right."

"Your turn," she said, closing the distance between them again. "You'll be able to feel these curves a little better when you lose the gloves."

The Drifter's eyes trailed along her form as he discarded his gauntlets. He removed the gun tucked in the leather belt at his waist and placed it on a small table, mindfully facing it away from the two of them. He made quick work of the leather wrappings and shrugged out of his dark green duster and gi, stacking them on top of the gun. The only article of clothing left on his upper body was a thin, dark undershirt.

His hands now bare, the Drifter glided them down the curve of her back.  Meanwhile, Val's slender fingers fiddled with the button of his pants. She was pleased to find his length pressing against the fabric. Her mind skipped ahead and she forced herself to bite her lip. He responded by undoing the button for her, and when she unzipped his pants, she briefly met his eyes--such a fierce blue, even in the dim lighting of the room.

Val returned her gaze to his crotch, and with one hand she freed his erection. She marveled at his size, wrapping her fingers around it and giving him a single stroke. Precum dripped off the head, and she caught it with the index finger of her other hand. She brought her finger to her lips and sucked, letting out a low moan, and she felt him twitch in her hand.

She liked this feeling of control she held over him, even if it was just here, in this moment, hidden away from the hustle and bustle of the Tower. She could probably get away with teasing him only for a little while longer before he gave in to their mutual lust, but she was determined to draw his urges out of him. 

Val pulled down on the waistband of his pants as she moved to sit on her knees. She rested her left hand on the firm muscle of his thigh to steady herself, and with her right hand she guided him into her mouth.

The Drifter's hands went to her hair. She swirled her tongue along his shaft and bobbed her head, eliciting rugged moans from him. Encouraged, she pushed further, the head of his cock pushing into the back of her throat, and in response he rocked his hips. She matched his pace, bobbing and sucking with his thrusts, and her eyes began to sting as she deep throated him.

Vallory didn't care. She reveled in the fact that the man she'd been eyeing for weeks shared her desires. She let him throat-fuck her, and she looked up to see his eyes closed as he moaned with every thrust. That sight alone was enough for her. A few more thrusts had him climaxing, and she swallowed around his cock as he released at the back of her throat. His knees buckled slightly, and he leaned back against the wall for support.

"Fuck," he gasped, and Val removed him from her mouth. She had a smug look on her face as she rose to her feet, and though she was satisfied that he got off, she wasn't done with him.

"Who knew I'd been missing out on that mouth of yours?" 

She smiled seductively. "Tapping out already?"

"Hell no."

Before Val could respond, The Drifter looped one arm around her and placed another hand behind her shoulder. With a single, swift movement, he lowered her to the floor. She felt the cold of the cement beneath even through her clothing and the wide rug that he laid her upon, and the plastic of a coiled tube jabbed into her side. She focused her eyes on him as he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside, then stepped out of his pants and boots. Scars stretched across and dotted his skin, over his arms and chest, and Val was sure there were many more on his back. She would be lying if she said she wasn't a little curious, but she also didn't care. She wasn't some innocent girl batting her eyelashes, wishing he'd tell her the stories of each scar as they cuddled under a starry sky. Not my place to care, she thought. And he wouldn't, either. All she wanted was primal lust, and she knew he'd be the same.

He leaned over her, naked, and her legs parted for him. He bent to kiss her neck, grazing his teeth against her skin with every kiss. The jade pendant that hung around his neck was a chilly brand on her skin, but the heat from his body warmed her. She ran her fingertips along his back, feeling his muscles tense, and he slid a hand underneath her shirt. A tiny shiver went through her as his calloused hands glided over her belly, and suddenly she wanted nothing else but to feel his rough hands on every part of her body. She grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it off, along with her bra. He helped her by sliding off her underwear, and with no clothes or armor to hinder them, The Drifter gave in to the desire building within his core.

He placed the head of his cock at her entrance, her warmth and wetness barely touching him, then gripped her hips as he slowly eased himself into her. Val let out a deep breath that she didn't know she'd been holding.

He pushed until his entirety was in her, then he began to move. He started with a couple long thrusts, his fingers massaging her bare ass as he moved, then he quickened the pace. Val dug her fingernails into his back, and her own back arched to deepen his thrusts. He answered by thrusting in and out of her with enough ferocity that his balls slapped against her.

Even with him encompassing and filling her, Val couldn't get enough of him. This was exactly what she'd been wanting from him since she'd first met him. She crossed her ankles around his waist and cursed and moaned until they were both grunting. He continued massaging her ass with one hand, but the other moved to her breasts, gripping as he rocked against her.

She couldn't resist taunting him again. "More," she panted. "Is that... all you've got?"

The Drifter's eyes darkened. His hands went to her thighs, and in an instant he had flipped Vallory over. Her belly was flat against the rug, and the hose that was previously digging into her back now pressed painfully against her ribs. He pulled both of her arms against her back, crossing her wrists, and re-entered her. 

"Fuck yes," she muttered, and he'd only barely heard it.

"Oh, yeah? You like getting fucked like this?" His thrusts were deeper and faster now, and Val closed her eyes. She couldn't see him, but she'd bet glimmer that there was a nasty smile on his face.

She was going dizzy with pleasure and his movements were unrelenting. She felt the pressure within her building fast, and she was certain she wouldn't be able to last much longer. The pressure rose until it finally hit the ceiling; she cried out and her legs quivered and body jerked as she came hard. Shortly after, The Drifter followed suit, swearing, his thrusts slowing and final as he emptied himself into her.

He held himself in her for a moment longer, then he pulled out, leaving a sticky white trail between their bodies. He let go of her arms and allowed himself to collapse beside her, and the both of them lay there on their backs, the rise and fall of their chests slowing to a steady rhythm.

Naturally, The Drifter was the first to speak.

"I figured you were good, but had I known you were that good, I would've acted on ya sooner."

Vallory scoffed. "I'm fairly certain that I'm the one who made the move."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his lips move into a smirk. "Heh. Maybe ya did. Maybe it's no coincidence that the conversation that brought you down here was a little... faulty."

Val shifted onto an elbow to gawp at him, slightly wincing at the pain she felt on her ribs and back. "You set that up?"

He said nothing, only shrugged. No wonder he was alone when she arrived. Other guardians hadn't interrupted them, either. She doubted he arranged for the Tower to be so conveniently busy, but the comm link interference was believable.

Vallory sat up now. "Clever bastard. My Ghost is gonna freak," she said, partly in worry, but mostly in adoration. 

"Mm."

She met his eyes again, but his expression was unreadable.

"Hey, Drifter..." 

"Yeah?" The Drifter was sitting up now, watching her, but it felt like he wasn't really focusing on what she was saying. The guy fucks you, then goes back to being shrouded in mystery, Val thought.

She respected that, though. "Listen... I want to be clear here," she began. "I think we might be on the same page--correct me if I'm wrong--but what happened just now was fucking awesome. I'd be down for more, in the future."

He opened his mouth to speak, but she continued. 

"I'm all for getting fucked out of my mind," Val said, and there was a hint of fondness in her tone. "But don't get any ideas about anything beyond that."

The Drifter worked his jaw, mulling over her words. "Ideas such as...?"

Vallory exhaled impatiently. Why did he have to make her say it? "Romance. All that lovey-dovey crap. I'm not interested in it."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Well, lucky for you, I'm a busy guy. Ain't got time for love."

Questions about his past rose at the back of her mind, but she forced those thoughts down. What mattered was that he understood her. "Good," she replied, then shakily stood up. Her legs felt a little weak, but she was otherwise unfazed. She found her underwear and shirt in the pile of clothes and put them back on. "So, wanna grab a bite?"

That signature grin of his returned, and he reached for his clothing. "Already nibbled you a bit."

She rolled her eyes. "Actual food," she said, picking up his t-shirt from the ground and throwing it at him. "Come on. It'll be my treat. And no, it's not a date."

He slipped the t-shirt over his head and rose to pull on his pants. "Course not," he said, stepping into his boots. 

Both of them were almost completely clothed again. She turned toward him and gave him a curt nod. 

"Let's go, cowboy."

[possiblyimbiassed]

Code, obviously

I’m aware that LSiT, Rebeckah and others of those brilliant people who figured lots and lots of things out in BBC Sherlock when I was still a lurker at tumblr, have addressed the many codes hidden in ASiB long ago. But time passes and I don’t have all those links for references, so why not try to refresh this issue a bit again? It can’t hurt, I think, because some people might still be unfamiliar with it. And not least because I actually do believe that ‘the Game is still on’. Anyone who has more links on the subject is of course welcome to add them.

In ASiB, at the Christmas party in 221B, Sherlock notices that John’s blog counter has stopped on 1895.

As per usual in BBC Sherlock, it’s mentioned and pointed out, but we’re also being distracted by other things happening at the same time (in this case Molly’s conversation with Lestrade).

(I’m putting the rest of this meta under the cut, since it’s lengthy)

Some days later on in ASiB, after they’ve found the Dominatrix Irene Adler ‘dead’, Sherlock is playing these sad tunes on his violin, allegedly because it ’helps him think’. So John asks him:

And there’s the deerstalker – again! Just on another blog post this time. Seems to me very much like a message – a repeated, coded message…

OK, so Sherlock is apparently playing sad tunes on his violin because John’s blog is stuck on 1895?? We never get to know anything else about this mysterious counter stop on John’s blog. So what’s the actual point of rubbing in these little facts into the audience’s minds, again and again in the same episode, when it has absolutely nothing to do with the actual plot?  Well, code, obviously.

As many have pointed out before me (for example the brilliant Rebekah, Fox and Brontë in this TJLC Explained video from 2016), 1895 was also the year when famous Irish poet and playwright Oscar Wilde was on trial and sentenced to two years of hard labour in prison, basically for being gay. A treatment which was probably the main cause of Wilde’s premature death in exile five years later. 

Wilde’s trial took place at the Old Bailey in London, and the first part of his imprisonment was carried out in Pentonville prison, also London. Both locations appear in TRF, associated with Moriarty. The Old Bailey is where Moriarty is tried (and released after threatening the jury’s families) and Pentonville is where he organizes a prison break. The dates from Moriarty’s hacking of John’s blog and from John’s first message after Sherlock’s ‘death’ even coincides in time with Wilde’s trial and imprisonment! This is pointed out in Rebekah’s video - which I can warmly recommend - together with a series of other interesting similarities.

To me it’s out of the question that all this could be coincidence; it’s a very deliberately coded story about Sherlock’s real problem and adversary in this show: homophobia. And the code word – 1895 - is dropped already in ASiB, and followed up much later in TAB, where Sherlock’s Victorian mind palace adventure is also supposedly set in the year 1895.

And then, of course, this coding does continue at the end of S4. Leaving subtlety behind, in TFP we have Mycroft actually quoting one of Wilde’s works:

And while Sherlock doesn’t seem to recognise it, John clearly does. This whole sequence happens when they’re waiting for the Patience Grenade to explode in 221B (which is actually saying something about patience, isn’t it? 122 years and counting... ;) )

And Mycroft - played by one of the authors - catches on:

So, what does it mean that John’s blog got stuck in 1895? Well, I can’t say I actually know, but a wild guess would be that it’s a coded hint to the audience that in some ways, we’re still stuck in Sherlock’s mind palace Victorian 1895, where heteronormativity and homophobia still rule. As is John and Sherlock and the whole show, unless something radical will happen in S5…

But there’s more code in ASiB. The main plot-line is circling around a certain coded message, which Irene Adler manages to manipulate Sherlock into decrypting. The Dominatrix has gotten it from a client who claimed it would ‘save the world’:

OK, so the best cryptographer, and he was upside-down. What does it mean? Well, the most famous cryptographer ever of the UK must actually have been Alan Turing, mustn’t it? Turing (1912 – 1954) - a cryptanalyst - is “widely considered to be the father of theoretical computer science”.

During WWII Turing was working at Bletchley Park, which was involved in the event referred to in ASiB as the ‘Coventry Conundrum’:

Here’s an excerpt from the Wikipedia entry Coventry Blitz:   “In his 1974 book The Ultra Secret, Group Captain F. W. Winterbotham asserted that the British government had advance warning of the attack from Ultra: intercepted German radio messages encrypted with the Enigma cipher machine and decoded by British cryptanalysts at Bletchley Park”.

But since Turing was gay – an ‘invert’ in old terms - he was, instead of being celebrated as the true hero he deserved to be, prosecuted for the very same ‘offence’ as Oscar Wilde: ‘gross indecency’. Only this happened 57 years later. Turing’s alternative to imprisonment was chemical castration, and only two years later he died from cyanide poisoning (allegedly suicide).

So, even Irene’s masterful ‘upside-down’ cryptographer couldn’t figure out this code?

But I believe we can see a crystal-clear pattern here, wouldn’t you agree? 

Sherlock, of course, quickly manages to decode the encrypted message from Irene in about eight seconds. 

But unfortunately, because Irene texts Mr Homophobia Jim Moriarty, this only leads to a ‘double-o-seven’ event that never actually happens (S4, anyone?) – the Dead Audience Flight of the Dead.

A scene which is still pretty much repeated in TFP:

As a pure coincidence (I am sure ;) ), two years after the release of ASiB, we have Sherlock’s actor playing Alan Turing in the highly acclaimed movie The Imitation Game. 

And – as I said at the beginning of this meta – I still believe that the Game is on…

Tagging some people who might be interested: @raggedyblue @ebaeschnbliah @sarahthecoat @gosherlocked @tjlcisthenewsexy @monikakrasnorada @sagestreet @justanotherone16 @tendergingergirl @fellshish

[hushedhands]

Challenge 64

 @insilentscreams-swift​, @cecilia02, @readingbetweenworlds

* Mayland find out that May’s pregnant. 

Nine months.

May didn’t want to get her hopes up because she and Ryland had officially been trying to conceive a baby for nine months, and if they’d been lucky the first time, they’d have one by now. She’d been dreading this month a little more every single time she had to break the news to Ry that she wasn’t pregnant. Again.

A year ago now, they’d attended a fundraising event on Ames’ behalf, a luncheon that was raising money for a local women’s clinic. May and Ry had gotten to hold several babies, the beneficiaries of donated baby clothes and supplies, whose mothers had gotten inexpensive or free prenatal care which had allowed those chubby, perfect little gurglers to be born in an uncomplicated way, healthy and strong. Listening to the doctors and nurses thank the donors that night, and go on and on about the advances in medical technology that were helping lower maternal and infant mortality rates, planted the seed of a wild idea in May’s head. It hadn’t been safe twenty years before. Was it safer now?

She’d been afraid to bring it up for a few days, but the idea had hooked into her brain and wouldn’t let her go. To try to get rid of the nagging thought, she’d reminded herself of the least pleasant babysitting experiences she’d ever had: babysitting Leo and Rogan as toddlers, heathens who liked to climb furniture and turn the knobs on the stove if you turned your back for too long, and cranky newborn Lief who could puke and pee all at the same time, all while May was trying to change his already soiled diaper.

Maybe it had just been too many years since her nieces and nephews had been babies, maybe the trauma was fading. Something reckless inside of her made her want to try despite the bad memories. She didn’t think she could be a better mom than her older sisters, but maybe she’d learned enough from them not to be a total disaster?

She gathered up the courage to mention it to Ryland in the most casual way she could, on a hike through a secluded section of the Angeles national park. She’d been expecting resistance, even annoyance; they’d always known they’d never have children and they’d lived a pretty great life built around the freedom that being childless allowed them. But when she offhandedly asked, “Do you ever wish that we had our own children?” the look on his face was pure relief.

He’d been thinking the same persistent, crazy thoughts she had for days, but he would never have suggested she risk her health for such a thing.

Over the following week they began discussing options in the most general way possible. Neither of them wanted to get too specific yet, they were trying to keep themselves from wanting this too much, and it was too early to know if it was even realistic.

They could adopt a child at any age, an attractive choice that could always be revisited later because it did not depend on the performance of May’s heart or uterus. They could use a surrogate, someone they knew and loved and trusted, someone who would be in the baby’s life forever. At that point, a few days into their discussion, May began looking for advice from America on the condition of absolute secrecy. She wanted to know if America had any bright ideas for a surrogate, and she did. Ames immediately volunteered to have the baby.

This toyed with May’s hopes enough to make her cry right then and there. On the one hand, America had had five beautiful, perfect babies, and was completely capable of making more. The fact that this wasn’t just something Ames was willing to do, but something that she seemed excited to do, was more than May could stand. But on the other hand, America was the Queen of Illéa, and the laws surrounding her uterus were fairly specific, though totally archaic. There would have to be a major legislative push to allow the Queen to give birth to a baby that wasn’t the King’s, and though Ames was a capable legislator, May didn’t think she could reasonably ask that of her sister. Not to mention, it could take years at this point and the amendment or repeal could still fail.

America and May also knew that Kenna would be more than happy to help out, but the condition of her heart wasn’t really all that better than May’s these days. It wouldn’t make sense to ask Kenna before trying for herself.  

So in the end, May ended up with Ryland in the hospital wing of the Palace, discussing her options with the brightest minds in several fields of medicine. There was a fertility expert, a cardiac expert, and an obstetrician, all talking very quickly, using enormous words that May wished Gerad was there to decode for her. By the end of her checkup, the doctors had presented her with a plan to safely, healthily have her own baby. It involved changing some of the medications she took for her heart, and adding a new mix of medications to aid her circulatory system, but each individual doctor agreed that it was a great plan and, barring any unforeseen complications, would result in a healthy baby.

From then on, it was up to May and Ryland to decide that they were ready to go through with this, and then to make it happen.

She’d stopped taking her birth control tablets 10 months ago, which meant that nine months ago would have been the first time she possibly could have conceived. The doctors had offered her the same fertility medicines that America and Kenna had once used to conceive Addy, Leo, and Rogan. May didn’t trust her body to bring twins to term without serious complications though, so she and Ry both agreed to stay away from those. If they were going to have a baby, they’d make it on their own.

Except, they hadn’t. Over and over again, they hadn’t. She’d begun to wonder how long she could do this to herself, how much disappointment she could bear before she broke down.

So this month when her period hadn’t come for a full week after it was due, she’d reluctantly scheduled an appointment with the obstetrician from her panel of experts. She knew it was probably stress-related, or maybe some other hormones in her body were out of balance, or any other of the myriad of reasons this kind of thing could happen. She didn’t want to think that, exactly 9 months after they’d hoped for a baby, she and Ryland might finally be getting one.

Ry kept her company while she waited for blood test results. As they bided their time, they planned their next overseas trip, wanting to squeeze Italy onto their itineraries before swinging through England to visit friends. Ry kept May calm, though her stomach was a tangle of electric eels. She just wanted this over with. She was tired, she wanted to think about something else. Maybe it was time to consider artificial implantation? Or maybe revisit the surrogate option again, and this time see if anyone outside of the family was interested?

But when the obstetrician returned, she didn’t leave them in suspense for a second longer. She closed the door so that they had privacy and immediately said, “It’s a positive test, Duchess.”

May didn’t want to believe it. “Does that mean… what are the chances it’s wrong?”

“Slim to none, but let’s take a look and see what we’ve got.” she said seriously, and with the press of a button the doctor awakened the ultrasound machine May had only ever seen used on her sisters.

Ry’s hand was shanking in hers when she met his eyes. She licked her dry lips nervously as she leaned back on the examination table. She had to stop herself from apologizing for the excited, borderline-panicked expression on his face. He had his hopes up, exactly what she’d wanted to avoid.

The jelly on her stomach was cold enough to make her squirm, and it sat atop her skin rather than sinking in, a slippery barrier. It took a moment after the doctor gently pressed the wand to May’s lower stomach before she found what she was looking for. She moved the stick around a little this way or that way until she was seeing what she wanted to see. She turned the screen around so that May and Ry could see, too.

It all looked like inscrutable grey and black blobs to her. She’d seen all of her nieces and nephews except Astra in this way, but she still couldn’t decipher what the grainy, fuzzy images were supposed to be.

“The uterine lining is thickened in exactly the way we’d expect it to be for a healthy pregnancy, and if you look right there,” she pointed at the lower section of the small black oval in the middle of the screen, “That’s the baby.”

May’s jaw dropped. It looked like a splotch of gray paint on a black palette, not a baby. “Are you sure?”

The doctor finally smiled, “Absolutely positive.”

It didn’t have arms or legs or discernible features of any kind yet, it was just a little blob of paint. May knew from experience, however, what kind of amazing art could come from a simple blob of paint.

Ry traced his thumb on her cheek and it came away wet. May sniffled heavily, realizing she’d started crying at some point. He pressed a kiss to her lips, far, far beyond the words to express how happy he was.

The doctor said, “You’ve still got a lot of milestones to hit before this baby is a sure-thing, but from everything I’ve seen, I’d say you’re off to a promising start. I’m going to send copies of your blood test results and this ultrasound to the other doctors on your team. Congratulations, May. You’re pregnant.”

What happened next was a blur. At some point the doctor cleaned off May’s stomach and left the room, handing Ryland a printed photograph of the ultrasound image of their baby.

Ry wrapped May in the warmest, sweetest hug she’d ever had and kissed her temple dozens of times.

May dug in and found her words first, “I’ve never been this happy in my entire life.”

Ry laughed, though he clearly agreed, and said, “What about our wedding?”

“Fine, yes, our wedding.” May rolled her eyes. “I just meant… I wanted this more than I thought I did. I had no idea how much it was slowly killing me not to be pregnant after trying for as long as we have… and now that anvil is off my shoulders and I just… I can’t—“ she lost the words again, but he understood. This ranked as one of the best days of their lives.

Ry sank to one knee and let his hands fall from her back around to her hips. He used his thumbs to brush her tiny navel, and met her eyes with pure delight. “All that matters in the whole wide world to me anymore is keeping you and this baby safe. I think I used to care about other things too, but I can’t remember what they are for the life of me.”

May giggled, and then she placed a hand on his cheek in a gentle caress. “We’re still going to Italy and England though, right?”

Ry didn’t miss a beat, “If the doctors say it’s safe, then we’ll go. If the doctors say it isn’t safe, then who cares about Italy and England? Our friends can come visit us for a change, they’ll understand.”

“Yeah,” May gloated, “It’s only until November. Let them suffer the jet lag for a while.”

“That’s right.” Ry stood back up and kissed her again, leaving his lips on hers for several seconds longer than usual. Then he leant back and chuckled at a thought that had just flitted through his mind. “Your family is going to spontaneously combust when they find out about this. They didn’t even know we were really trying!”

May giggled, imagining the shrieks her sisters would emit, the way Maxon and James would blatantly grow misty-eyed at the news that they’d have another baby niece or nephew to spoil in just a few short months. “Hey, I want to tell Ames and Kenna tonight.” May said. “I know there’s still a high chance of miscarriage, but I wouldn’t want to suffer through a miscarriage without their support.”

“Okay.” Ry didn’t argue; it was entirely her choice.

“But after them, let’s not tell anyone for a long time.”

“Who, like your mother?”

“I’ll tell her eventually, but I was really talking about the public.”

“You don’t want to have a huge baby announcement?” Ry clarified. He was surprised but not dismayed.

“I want this time to be ours, just for us and the people closest to us. I’ll tell mom in a couple of months, but do you think… How long do you think we can avoid telling the public?”

Ry shrugged, “I guess it depends. I mean, they’ll figure it out when they see you at the Halloween, just a few weeks shy of full-term, won’t they? Or Rosie’s birthday? Or Maxon’s birthday? Maybe even the Grateful Feast Parade?”  

“Yeah.” May sighed. Baby rumors haunted Ryland and her all the time, the tabloids would figure this out pretty quickly. “Unless… maybe I don’t go this year… Maybe I just… relax in private? Stay away from cameras?”

This shocked Ry. His wife was a media starlet, she loved using her fame to help Ames and Maxon stay in the people’s favor. She’d never taken a break from public appearances before, not once, not even when she was sick or exhausted. “May, are you sure?”

“I don’t even know if it would work, but I think it might be nice to try.” May shrugged. “I’ve given the public a lot of myself over the years, but this—“ She placed her right wrist on her left hip so that her arm hugged her stomach, “I want this to be ours.”

“It’s ambitious,” Ryland admitted with admiration in his voice, “but if anyone can do it, you can.”

May grinned up at him. “Ry?”

“Yes, May?”

“We’re having a baby.” she beamed.

“I know.” he laughed, pulling her in for a tight hug.  

[shirlleycoyle]

What Is ‘Error-Correcting Memory’ and Why Does the Creator of Linux Think You Need It?

A version of this post originally appeared on Tedium, a twice-weekly newsletter that hunts for the end of the long tail.

Does the average computer user need to care about memory with error-correction capabilities? Linus Torvalds seems to think so.

The Linux lead developer and creator recently went off on Intel, claiming that the company’s choice to relegate ECC (error-correcting code) memory to the server room had harmed consumers.

“ECC availability matters a lot—exactly because Intel has been instrumental in killing the whole ECC industry with its horribly bad market segmentation,” Torvalds wrote in a forum post, his natural habitat. This seems like a particularly nerdy thing to focus on to some degree, but Torvalds seems to be making the case that the reason why it is so nerdy is because Intel, a company whose entire business model is facing challenges from activist investors right now, decided to treat something fundamental as a high-end premium feature.

Is it? And what should tech nerds know about ECC memory? Let’s explain what error correction is and why he just might be right.

“Dammit, if a machine can find out that there is an error, why can’t it locate where it is and change the setting of the relay from one to zero or zero to one?”

— Richard Hamming, a Bell Labs employee, discussing the decision-making process that led to the Hamming Code, the first prominent error-correction algorithm, in 1950. The test relies on parity checking to help determine whether errors occurred in a data transmission, and to fix them. Hamming’s work, per a Computer History Museum biography, was inspired by a test that broke on him on the computer he was using at the time, a Bell Model V that relied on punch cards. An error with the cards sent the results he needed to give his coworkers off the rails—but it soon led to something fundamental to the history of computing. His formative work soon was improved greatly by numerous others that followed in his footsteps.

A dial-up modem is a good example of an experience that was made a lot better through error correction. Image: Wikimedia Commons

What the heck is error correction, and why would a computer user want it?

Error correction involves a series of formulas that aim to ensure the flow of information being distributed isn’t broken even if something goes wrong or is corrupted.

And its context goes far beyond what the RAM in your computer does.

A good way of thinking about this in a real-world way is to consider what happens if you’re streaming a video on a bad connection. Bits and pieces break off the stream, and the video client (for example, Zoom) has to account for them as best as possible. It may lead to a choppy experience with dropped frames and maybe some blurriness or broken up imagery, but the video does the best it can to continue unabated. Perhaps redundancy is built into the video codec so that the random missing byte doesn’t break the end-user’s connection; perhaps parity checks that are used to help determine the quality of the data being sent can help clean up some of the bits being sent over the wire so an error doesn’t end up looking wrong.

This is actually something that connections have been doing all along. When we were all trying to download data on pokey, noisy telephone lines, a little static was enough to ruin a connection.

This led to many efforts at error correction targeting the phone system. For example, many modems sold during the late 80s and early 90s supported an error correction protocol called V.42, one of a number of “V-series” protocols decided on by the International Telecommunication Union for managing data-based communications through the telephone line.

Rather than correcting the error on the fly like the Hamming Code allows for, V.42 used an error correction method called Automatic Repeat reQuest (ARQ), which basically means that it asks for a lost packet again after a piece of data goes missing. The error correction worked through the use of repetition, essentially resending any lost data packets as soon as they’re detected. (The goal is not maximum speed, but consistency. After all, a fast connection that completely breaks down is likely not worth it on dial-up.)

Error correction methods were used to help ensure that dropped bytes were able to be repeated so that it didn’t, for example, negatively impact a file transfer.

The error correction system that Hamming landed upon, meanwhile, involves a concept called parity, in which more information is sent than needed to confirm that what was sent correctly got through. Generally, a parity bit can help determine whether a resulting byte of binary code should be even or odd, and correct the data as needed. As shown in the Khan Academy video above, the solution—which effectively describes the Hamming codes—essentially does a test on itself to ensure that nothing broke during the data transmission process that could negatively affect the information.

This kind of error correction, called forward error correction, has a lot of practical uses. Hamming’s work was eventually followed up by other error-correction methods, most notably a system devised by Irving S. Reed and Gustave Solomon in the early 1960s that combined on-the-fly encoding and decoding of data to help protect the integrity of the data in noisy environments. Reed-Solomon codes have come into use most famously with CDs and DVDs (it’s the technology that helps prevent skips in those devices when, say, a disc is scratched), but a wide array of other technologies as well, such as wireless data.

There are lots of other codes for error correction that have found use over the years, but for the layperson, the key thing to know is that it’s a fundamental building block of computing … and it’s everywhere, helping to ensure things as diverse as your Netflix stream and your LTE signal land with a minimum of disruption.

This concept applies more generally to computer memory in general, which requires error correction in particular contexts. Ever have it happen where a piece of software just crashes on you, no explanation, and you have to restart your app—or possibly even the computer? Often there may be no rhyme or reason to it, but it happens anyway.

In certain environments, such as server rooms, crashes such as these can prove hugely problematic, stopping mission critical applications directly in their tracks.

And in ECC memory, the kind Linus Torvalds was complaining about, the Hamming Code is everywhere, helping to make sure those small computational mistakes don’t break the machine.

0.09%

The estimated failure rate for ECC memory, according to a 2014 analysis by Puget Systems, a developer of high-end workstations and servers. The company analyzed the failure rates of its computer memory over a yearlong period. By comparison, its non-ECC memory failed 0.6 percent of the time, or 6.67 times more than the error-correcting option. (Puget’s analysis, which is admittedly a bit on the older side, also dives into a common misconception about ECC memory, that the extra error-checking comes at a significant performance cost; in some of its tests, it found that the ECC memory was often faster than the standard equivalent.)

Outside of the server rack, the Apple Mac Pro is probably the best-known computer to use ECC memory, as all of its recent models are based on the Xeon processor line. Image: Wikimedia Commons

Why you likely have never used error-correcting memory in a computer you own … unless you used an IBM PC in the 80s

So to get back to Linus Torvalds’ complaint, he’s effectively upset that Intel’s efforts over the years to differentiate its high-end server and workstation equipment from its consumer-level gear has left most modern computer users without a feature that could benefit many regular users.

“The ‘modern DRAM is so reliable that it doesn’t need ECC’ was always a bedtime story for children that had been dropped on their heads a bit too many times,” Torvalds said, which is for him a typically unnecessarily hostile way to describe something. Torvalds had previously and famously apologized for being a jerk and said he's working on "understanding emotions."

(OK, maybe that was a bad idea. Yikes, that metaphor.)

But to take a step back, the general concept of error correction in the IBM PC actually dates to the earliest days of the platform, when many early PCs used nine-bit memory words, with the additional bit going to parity. But that faded away over time, with many major RAM manufacturers deciding by the mid-1990s to stop selling it in consumer use cases.

There was a good reason for this, too: While manufacturers didn’t think it was necessary for regular users anymore, so they dropped the feature, seen as adding cost and lowering speed, in many non-critical use cases.

An example of a stick of DDR3 memory that supports ECC. Image: Wikimedia Commons

ECC memory has been around a long time, but has largely been in niche use cases like workstations and servers for the past 30 years or so—in part because Intel has largely limited its support to its high-end Xeon chip line, which often is used in mission-critical ways. (My dumpster-dive Xeon uses ECC memory, in case you were wondering. Side note: While ECC memory is generally more expensive when new, it’s often cheaper used, which is why said machine has 64 gigs of RAM.)

But recently, the case for ECC memory for regular users has started to grow as individual memory chips have started to grow faster and more tightly condensed. This has created new types of technical problems that seem to point toward ECC’s comeback at a consumer level.

In recent years, a new type of security exploit called a “rowhammer” has gained attention in technical circles. This exploit, also known as a bit-flip attack, effectively attacks memory cells repeatedly with the goal of acquiring or changing data already in memory. It’s essentially the computer memory equivalent of a concussion.

As ZDNet notes, the attack model is largely theoretical at this time, but vendors have tried … and repeatedly failed to prevent academics from proving that rowhammer attacks remain a fundamental threat to computer security. (Better academics than zero-day exploiters, right?)

While ECC memory can help mitigate such attacks, it is not foolproof, with Dutch researchers coming up with a rowhammer attack that even affects ECC RAM.

Torvalds—who, it should be reminded, specializes in building a low-level operating system kernel used by hundreds of millions of people, so he likely sees these issues up close—argues that Intel’s move to segregate ECC from mainstream computer users has likely caused problems with modern computers for years, even without academics going out of their way to attack it.

“We have decades of odd random kernel oopses that could never be explained and were likely due to bad memory,” he writes. “And if it causes a kernel oops, I can guarantee that there are several orders of magnitude more cases where it just caused a bit-flip that just never ended up being so critical.”

Intel’s mainstream Core chips generally do not support ECC, but as Torvalds notes, more recent AMD Ryzen chips—which have gained major popularity in the consumer technology space in recent years, largely because they’re often better than Intel—generally do (though it is dependent on the motherboard).

“The effect of cosmic rays on large computers is so bad that today’s large supercomputers would not even boot up if they did not have ECC memory in them.”

— Al Geist, a research scientist at the Oak Ridge National Laboratory, discussing the importance of ECC memory in a 2012 Wired piece that largely focuses on the challenges that cosmic rays create for computing solutions on the planet Mars—something that the Curiosity Rover, which is based on a PowerPC chip design, was built to work around. (Cosmic rays are just one of the factors that can cause bit-flipping, or the introduction of errors into computer memory.) However, Geist notes that the concerns that space rovers face also can cause issues on the ground—issues mitigated by the use of error-correcting memory.

In some ways, the fact that such a prominent figure—a guy famous for speaking his mind on random internet forums—is sticking his neck out there in favor of a technology that few consumers even know about highlights its importance in the modern day.

But the truth is, error correction has always been with us in one way or another as computer users, whether in a hardware or software context.

One might argue he’s just venting, letting off steam, but nonetheless, a big-name figure arguing for something that would benefit regular consumers is a good thing, even if it might not happen tomorrow.

(Something in favor of this becoming more mainstream: Intel is hurting, and is the target of activist investors that are trying to make the case that Intel needs to make some huge strategic changes to keep up, even going so far as to drop its longstanding vertical-integration model, which involves manufacturing its own chips. In other words, cards are on the table that haven’t been in a long time.)

Will it come to mainstream computers in this context? Time will only tell, but perhaps this is a conversation worth having right now. After all, as computers become more complex, old standards for technical needs are going to matter less and less, and things like reliability are going to matter a whole lot more.

Whether or not he was trying to, there’s potential that Torvalds might have started a useful conversation about what the future of computing needs to include—and what should or shouldn’t be a premium feature in our hardware.

But he may want to leave the metaphors to others.

What Is ‘Error-Correcting Memory’ and Why Does the Creator of Linux Think You Need It? syndicated from https://triviaqaweb.wordpress.com/feed/

[askmicrowaveayem]

MAYEM: Just Like Me - Pt. 11

[Previous]

[Archive] [Cast]

Gaster hoped that was okay. He really, really did. Trying to ignore his worries he flicked open the window in front of his double’s soul. It would either work, showing the inner workings of his twin’s soul, what it was, it’s state of health and being and who it belonged to, or… well he half expected it to be made up of so much information his whole window would just be a mess of this and that with no discernible stopping or starting point.

--

It was really, mostly, a mess of 0’s and 1’s. But there was some semblance of order to it. There were definitely categories marked, ready to display the composition, ownership, and health status, but only about half of them made much sense. The ownership was clear enough, and the composition flicked into the soul colors that they used to identify traits in humans, but information on the actual substance holding the soul in the shape of a soul, its health, and many of the other stats were simply messes. Any diagrams looked like someone had shifted and overlaid various patterns over it multiple times until it was a scratchy mess.

Still, some of the information was usable enough they might be able to compare it to another subject, and the rest? Maybe it could one day be decoded.

--

It was about as much of a mess as Gaster had been expecting. He sighed through his toothless mouth and pulled out his phone to take a picture before closing the window in front of him. “About what I thought. It’s a mess of too much information. It would need to be decoded.” He turned his phone around for his double to see the picture of the window and the mess of code and diagrams plastered all over it.

--

Gaster nodded, looking it over and sighing. “All right. That’s another project for later, then. Right now we should probably just focus on the ones in front of us, I guess.”

He turned to look at the mess of the lab in front of them again.

“At least this one we can fix, right?”

--

“Right.” Gaster sighed and turned to look back at the lab. After staring at the mess that remained for a moment he looked to his twin once more. “... Now I need to know what mine says.” Curiosity was a bitch.

--

He looked up at his double. “...can you point it at yourself, or does that not work at all?”

..he kind of wanted to know, too, now. Maybe there were similarities?

What would it look like now that the second soul was added to the original?

It would be really, really cool if they could somehow get a look.

--

“I think so.” He said, flicking open another window. His hand hovered on the corner for but a moment before he spun it around to face himself. It twitched before going blank, then being filled with scrolling ones and zeros flying across the screen at such a fast rate it was almost impossible to keep up with. --

“Ah!” He said, startled at the sudden speed the information was taking. “Can you see from your angle, or?!” He said, not sure if the window was always visible to his double or not. Either way, he quickly pulled out the phone he’d been given, but instead of taking a photo, set it to record. There was no way a single photo, or even a series of them, could manage to catch all of this.

--

“Ah what!?” He said in a panic. “No I can’t see shit. What’s it doing!?”

The binary continued on and on and one, never seeming to stop. --

“It’s, uh,” he said. “You’re really going to hate me for saying this. But it’s fucking infinite.”

He kept holding his hand steady, trying to record as much as he possibly could while also keeping his eyes trained on the window, looking to see if maybe he could find a pattern at a glance. But the information was going so fast, that was unlikely.

--

“Oh motherfucker.” Gaster threw up his hands. “I was expecting the opposite. I wonder if your soul has anything to do with that.” --

“That might make sense, but my soul was doing nothing like what yours is doing right now.”

--

He groaned. Could nothing ever be fucking simple? “How much more do you think you should record?” Gaster asked, having no idea what his double was looking at. --

“....I’m honestly not sure. I kind of want to see if it does ever end. But that’s probably really impractical. ...gimme a few more seconds.”

He did finally end the recording and hand the phone over to his double to see what had been happening in the window.

--

Gaster closed it and then took the phone to watch the recording. His expression didn’t change from mild annoyance. “... Fucking really.” He said flatly. --

“Fucking really,” Gaster confirmed. “Now you know why I was freaking out a bit.”

He moved over to watch his double watch the clip. “...yeah, I’m really not sure what to make of it at all, unless maybe your window just. Flipped the fuck out at being turned on itself, kind of?”

--

“Maybe? I mean it’s possible.” Gaster shrugged, “I’ve never flipped it around on myself before.” After the video finished he sighed and handed his twin’s phone back. “Whatever. Like you said, a problem for another time.” --

Gaster nodded and pocketed his phone. “Well. We won’t be bored for a while. I’ll work on your soul, you work on my, and we’ll be each other’s pet projects?”

--

He laughed at that, “Sure, sounds fun.” Gaster rubbed his eyes and turned to look back at the machine again. “But… first things first.” He stood, “I should get back to work. Sooner we get this fixed, sooner you can get home.” --

Gaster nodded. “Yeah... “

He was ready to go now. But at the same time. He was grateful that it was being delayed. And that was awful.

He shook his head. “Still. Take a break and sleep if you need it. You’ve got more energy than me, clearly, but at least I’m taking breaks occasionally.”

--

“Don’t worry, I’ll take a break if I feel I need it.” He smiled, “Or if I don’t feel I need it, but I do, I’ll suddenly pass out somewhere. That’s happened before.” --

Gaster gave him a flat look. “If you fall asleep working with a torch or drill, I’m not saving you.”

--

He threw his hands up to say ‘oh well guess i’m dead again’ and then strolled back towards the machine, leaving his double to either continue working on the wires or take a nap.

--

Gaster shook his head and went back to the wiring system.

He’d get home.

--

Gaster went right back to work. He would work and work and work, the boys eventually coming in the following morning after breakfast and helping once more. They would work throughout the day just like before, then go home. Their father worked another full day and half the night before he started to slow down a little. At one point he sat down to look over his work and his body started to slump, head rolling a bit before he eventually finally drifted off while still sitting up. --

Gaster noticed after about fifteen minutes of wondering why his twin had suddenly paused.

It was about time, though.

He stopped the stopwatch on his phone, decided to tally it up to an approximation, and then got up to haul his twin’s sleeping butt over to the makeshift sleeping area he’d created for himself over the last day.

He set his twin in it without waking him and went back to work.

What a loser.

--

Gaster was out for a solid few hours before waking up with a start. He kicked off the blankets and sat up abruptly, eyes wide as he looked around. Once they found his double he had to ask, “Was I asleep?” He didn’t sound too certain. --

“Out cold,” he nodded, and glanced down at the clock. “For… a full few hours! Go the fuck back to sleep.”

--

Gaster made a few mumbling noises and sunk down a little again. “I really don’t like sleep anymore.” It frightened him. --

That caught his attention. He turned and looked at his twin questioningly. “...because of the void, or?”

--

He shook his head, “Because of losing consciousness. It doesn’t feel the same as it did when I was slipping, but… I don’t like ‘shutting off’. It feels similar enough that I don’t like it.” --

“Ah…” he said, not sure how to respond. “That… makes sense. ..is this the first time you’ve slept since then?”

--

“Yeah.” Gaster folded his arms and leaned against the wall the bed was set up by. He was definitely tired, but… ugh. He rubbed his eyes.

--

“...do you want me to… try and use my magic on your soul while you sleep? It might make you feel better held together?”

It was a pretty silly idea, but… well. If it worked, it’d probably be worth it, right?

His double looked exhausted. After seeing all his boundless enthusiasm before, he didn’t want to see him this tired.

--

It was a pretty silly idea. “I… sure. Why not.” He shrugged, apparently too tired to really argue about it.

--

Gaster nodded, and activated his magic, taking ahold of his twin’s soul as he had many times over the last few weeks. It was much, much easier this time, now that he no longer had to worry about accidentally shattering his soul, but still, he kept the hold tenuous and light.

--

It was… very comforting. After that he found himself slumping down a little more and falling back to sleep. With that ‘hold’ over him he didn’t feel like if he relaxed he would fall to pieces and go unconscious for the last and final time. He would sleep until sunrise.

--

He had to stop working.

After a while of keeping the hold on his twin’s soul, he just didn’t have the concentration to do both. So he stopped, climbed out of his chair, and rested beside him, just focusing on the hum of magic and trying to rest without sleeping for a while.

If this was what it took, it would be worth it. But they’d have to figure out what to do for when he finally left. Because this couldn’t go on forever, even if his double could apparently go almost an entire week without sleeping.

--

Eventually Gaster opened his eyes again. He didn’t wake up startled this time, blinking and looking around to spot his double beside him and feeling the magic still around his soul before sighing. That was nice. But he wondered the same thing, how scary was falling asleep going to be when his twin was gone? “How long was I out?” --

Once his double was fully awake and talking, Gaster blinked blearily and released his magic, sighing as he did. “Uh… most of the night, actually, it looks like,” he said, checking the time again.

“How are you feeling?”

--

“Good. Better. Thanks.” He offered his double a smile. “Sorry if that tired you out.” --

He shook his head. “It’s fine. I recharge easier than you do, apparently.”

Still he yawned.

“Move over. My turn for the bed.”

--

Gaster stood up and moved out of the bed, sure to dramatically cover him up with the blanket and cooing, “Sweet dreams.”

--

“Uuuuuugh,” he said. “How did your sons survive you?”

--

Gaster just laughed and turned away to go right back to work.

The following days would be much the same. Work, work, work more, occasionally pass out for all of five minutes. The boys would come at daybreak and go during the night. Very, very slowly, things were looking better. The lab became cleaner. The parts were replaced. After over a week of solid work by all of them, it was finished. The next few days would be nothing but checks, double checks, and more checks. --

There wasn’t anything he could do during the checking period. He was mostly useful for small repairs, individual parts that didn’t affect the actual time-travel component, and getting his double to sleep consistently.

The next few days would be nothing but waiting.

He spent most of his time on the mountain side, taking in as much of the surface as he could while he was still there.

He had yet to bring up the subject of how his double would sleep once he was gone. He thought maybe they were both a little nervous of the idea of leaving at all.Of him getting home.

Soon, even the checks were finished, and he headed back down into the lab, to wait for a final time.

--

With the final checks done they would be leaving the following morning, first thing. The boys still needed to sleep. This would be Gaster’s last night in his ‘own’ world with his double. Only after the boys were gone did he turn to his counterpart and ask, “So… gameplan is I find your Sans first?”

--

Gaster nodded. “Right. We’ll probably know more once we actually arrive and see the state things are in, but… yeah. Basically.”

--

He nodded and took a deep breath he didn’t need. “Is there anything in particular you want me to say to him?”

--

He looked down and shuffled a bit, thinking. “...that I’m sorry, and I understand if he doesn’t want to see me. Or doesn’t want Papyrus to see me. It’s all his decision. He’s in charge.”

--

Gaster frowned and opened his mouth to say something, but decided against it. It might just make his twin feel worse and he truely didn’t want that.

“... Okay.” As alien as the idea felt, he wondered if his Sans would tell him to go away and not come back. But… there was no way. Surely. How could he say that? It sounded impossible.

--

Gaster nodded. “...They’ve figured out a life without me. And he’s been through a lot I always promised I’d never let happen. I…” he huffed, reading at least some of the look on his twin’s face. “...If he’s upset, it’s understandable. They’ve already been through too much.”

He looked over at the machine again. They’d be going in just a few more hours. That was… a lot more imminent than it’d felt all week.

--

“You always have a home here.” Gaster said it before he even thought about the words coming out of his mouth. Even so, he looked very resolved with what he said.

--

He was startled, but smiled a moment later.

“Am I spending the rest of my life eating pineapple for you to record, or am I helping hunt down the anomaly?”

--

He smiled back, “That’s up to you. Hunting is dangerous, but… I won’t make you be the housewife.”

--

“As if I’d let you run out and do stupid things without me,” he said, shaking his head, still smiling.

He wasn’t really sure how to explain to his double how much the promise of a home meant.

So he’d just have to hope his other had an idea. Somehow.

--

He had a little bit of an idea.

“Your boys too. If anything ever happens and you need to bail, just yell. We’ll come get you.” Gaster reached into himself to pull out two communicators, then handed one over to his double. It was small with only a few switches. One flicked on a green light, one a red light, and another was for Morse Code. On the back in wingdings was ‘IDIOT #2’ in marker.

--

He took the communicator, raising his eyebrows, and holding out his hand for the other.

“I just want to check.”

--

Gaster handed his over. “Go ahead.” --

He flipped it on the back to see if there was wingdings on it as well.

--

It read ‘IDIOT #1’ and, in smaller wingdings underneath ‘LEGS’.

--

It was the ‘LEGS’ that did him in.

He snorted, handing the communicator back before doubling over a bit and trying to hold in his laughter. “Did you need to reassure yourself about your legs or something??”

--

“Not all of us can be a prettyboy you know.” Gaster said, trying to sound offended through his stupid grin. He took his communicator back and put it inside himself.

--

“I turned into goo and I’m still wearing an oversized sweater,” he said, still laughing. “I think you need different standards.”

Still, he also stored his own communicator and looked back up at the machine. “...so. Almost there, I guess.

--

“Yep.” Gaster said, turning to the machine. He pulled out his tablet only halfway from his chest just to check the time. “The boys will be here any minute.” Now was his turn to worry. Would his Sans accept him back? What if he didn’t? Would they even be alive? What if they were dead? What if Chara had found them? He closed his eyes tight for a moment and tried not to think about all of those possibilities. His twin would get a happy ending. He deserved to get a happy ending.

--

He nodded. “What should we do until then? ...Want to get a bit more sleep?”

Now would’ve been the time to bring up what was going to happen once he was gone, but… he didn’t.

--

“Nah. They’ll be here in a few minutes I think.” Gaster said. He didn’t want to think what it was going to be like when his double left. His double needed to leave and be with his kids. If he had to suffer a bit for that then it was fine. It would only be 15 minutes or so later that the door opened and Sans and Papyrus stepped into the room.

“TODAY IS THE BIG DAY!” Papyrus grinned, not knowing of any of the fears either of them had. In his mind there was no way a version of himself or Sans would turn him away, even if the younger Papyrus didn’t even know who he was.

--

He turned and smiled at the kids when they arrived, nodding. “Yeah, it is. You both ready?”

He resisted the urge to glance back at his double or grab his hand, because, haha, his heart was absolutely freaking out at that moment. This was it.

--

“OF COURSE!” Papyrus grinned, “EVEN IF WE DON’T GET TO SEE OUR OWN DOUBLES AGAIN I WILL BE HAPPY THAT YOU’RE REUNITED.” Even Sans looked a little happy, or happier than his usual smile implied.

The two climbed into the machine and strapped in. Gaster must have noticed the small amount of body language his double gave off or, perhaps, could feel it somehow in the piece of his soul holding him together, but no matter what the cause was he reached out and took his hand to lead him into the machine as well.

“You can take my seat. I can stand. The harness does fucking nothing for me anyway.”

Or perhaps now maybe it would have. He was more solid than before.

--

“If it does fucking nothing for you, what’ll it do for me?” He said, but still ended up taking the seat. “...we’re both going to end up squished on the wall, aren’t we?”

Somehow, thinking about that calmed his nerves some, maybe because it was really stupid and didn’t involve meeting his kids all over again.

--

Gaster chuckled, “Maybe? Who knows.” He started to punch in the sequence, watching the monitor above the control panel before his hand hovered over the lever. Before he pulled it he looked down at his twin and put a hand on his shoulder. He smiled, “Ready?”

--

“As I’ll ever be,” he said, giving a shaky smile back and holding on to the edges of his seat.

….huh. He hoped he didn’t suddenly burst back into light and sound when they passed through the void. That would be uncomfortable.

Too late now.

--

Gaster squeezed his double’s shoulder before turning and thrusting the lever forward.

They and the machine all jumped, passing through the void before softly landing in the forest outside Snowdin.