#i was struck with the visual of watching them both change at once

[ninjasmudge]

loving the idea of red mortal blood becoming black godblood ichor and vice versa, like the exchange of godhood

[house-of-stone-at-sunrise]

2023 Spotify Wrapped - Devils & Angels

The angel and devil figures are surrounded by a wild apple tree. Within Christianity The Tree of Knowledge has most often been represented as an apple tree, which places this pair of figures in The Garden of Eden, paradise. The devil in that parable is usually depicted in the form of a snake tempting Eve, the first woman.

The angel in white stands on top of a wedding cake. This visually links Cruel Summer "devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes" with the music video for "I bet you think about me" in which Taylor is the sole character in red while everybody else besides the groom is in white, and she flicks the grooms cake-topper off the cake leaving the bride to stand alone. So, is Taylor the devil in this scene? If so then is she tempting the angel-bride to sin?

Behind the pair a red eyed dragon with leaves for scales and gnarled bark for horns and teeth looms watching them. The angel has a heart-tipped arrow which is typical in depictions of Cupid and her bow aims at a pair of dice held by the devil.

There's a lyric from the 80's band Dragon, "snake eyes on a pair of dice" which was very frequently misheard as "snake eyes on paradise." The song, April Sun in Cuba, is described as "an escapist dream of escaping in search of greener pastures, against the backdrop of possible political disaster" [1]

Dragons also appear lyrically in Long Live, a song in which Taylor and the subject are fighting dragons, moving mountains, and she swears that one day they will be remembered. She also describes the subject as holding their head up like a hero in that song, in contrast to the way she describes herself in the song Anti-Hero.

The devil throws the dice into the air and at the last moment the angel shifts her aim down ready to shoot the devil instead of the dice.

The next shot of the pair is the final scene before the scroll up to the stars, in it the angel changes her mind a second time and takes aim at the dice once more while the devil, now facing camera forward, dances. The angel never actually lets loose an arrow. Nor does she roll her eyes. :P To dance with the devil is to do something risky or immoral but the devil here is dancing alone. The angel is poised to shoot but uncertain whether to shoot down 'paradise' or to shoot the 'temptress' in the end she hasn't made a decision, interestingly she never even looks at the dragon let alone takes aim at it.

The scene plays out on Taylor's right shoulder next to the wrist that displays friendship bracelets spelled out in bi-pride coloured letter beads: Cruel Summer, Anti Hero, Karma, and August.

[1] https://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/2022/feb/14/scott-morrisons-ukulele-rendition-of-april-in-the-sun-in-cuba-labelled-cynical-by-band-behind-1977-hit

Edited to add: more thoughts because can't stop won't stop:

In media having an angel & devil on your shoulder are representations of your conscience and temptation, an inner conflict. And in the I Bet You Think About Me music video TS is shown in both red and white costumes: as a scorned party, and as the bride. So both the angel and devil characters may be read as aspects of TS herself. One (facet of the mirror-ball) who wants to take a risk to stay in paradise and dance, and another facet who wants to be 'pure' (white dresses in weddings represent virginity,) and get married. Is the angel/bride shooting down paradise, or shooting for paradise? The devil/temptresses intentions might be risky but that doesn't make them evil. Why is the tip of the arrow a heart? To be struck by Cupids arrow is to fall in love, so is the angel/bride trying to make the devil/temptress fall in love with her?

Snakes in Christianity are symbolic of Satan, but in the TS universe snakes are a symbol of having a bad reputation. Is the risk of the dice roll a loss of reputation? Is the angel/bride threatening the devil and getting married in white to protect her reputation?

Both characters wear face-paint to partially obscure their features in keeping with the overall theme of the art-work, however, the angels face is far less concealed than the devils. Despite the effort at concealment the devil turns to look at the observer. This may be linked to how exposed she feels each facet of herself has been in the fish-bowl of the public sphere.

Whatever the turmoil is it is unresolved at the end of the clip.

[fang-and-feather]

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire

Rating: G

Category: F/M, Multi

Relationship: Leonardo da Vinci/MC/Theodorus van Gogh (can be seen as a V or Triad)

Prompt(s): Inspiration from @polyamships

Summary: Leonardo hasn't created anything for a long time, but his family might be the change he was waiting for.

This was supposed to be a test drive for a pairing I was suggested but ended being a undefined polyamorous fic, short and done last minute, without any direct character interaction. Not much of a test drive. Maybe next month... Also my poor attempt at an event banner...

IkeVamp Masterlist / General Masterlist

Leonardo hadn’t really been able to paint for ages, or do much of anything that went beyond the drafting stage, but, as time went by with his new family, he often found himself more inspired, especially after the baby was born.

In fact, his most detailed sketches were either of his girlfriend when their relationship was beginning and whenever he saw something new in her, or of her or Theo with the baby, sometimes the three of them together, and a few only of the baby.

Maybe it was the novelty of it all that inspired him the most. Or maybe it was about having proof these fleeting moments were real and not just a dream in the future. When his wife was gone, the child had grown, and he had no idea what his relationship to Theo would be by then.

Or, worse yet, when so much time had passed that he was left alone with his feelings and memories.

As a pureblood vampire, he was eternal. Everyone else’s lives were so fleeting compared to his, even of the other vampires.

But the idea of keeping physical proof of these moments sounded both tempting and scary. Being surrounded by these memories would be a blessing or a curse?

Leonardo didn’t know, so he refrained from giving in to these bouts of inspiration, even when Theo caught him sketching and practically begged him to try painting again.

But one late afternoon, after coming back from the town and not finding his wife, Leonardo walked into the baby’s room, to find her and Theo huddled together on the sofa, the baby secure in their arms, all three of them fast asleep, bathed into the orange glow of the setting sun.

It was such a warm scene. Even Theo looked so peaceful and soft instead of his usual rough and tense, always working and always in a hurry. A moment Theo would try to deny or downplay when he woke up.

The painting was done slowly and in secret, with borrowed materials and Leonardo considered abandoning it many times, questioning the use of his rare moments alone, but for once, he saw it to the end.

Maybe it was because he never considered sharing it with anyone else but his family. He had no intention of creating for the public ever again, but Leonardo realized it didn’t mean never creating again.

Using his inspiration to please his family wasn’t so bad. Maybe not as often as inspiration struck or he wouldn’t have the space, but making something special every once in a while was good enough to pass time and show what his family and the memories he had of them were important for him.

After all, they were the ones who inspired him to enjoy the moment instead of just letting everything for later, or thinking that nothing mattered much because he had all the time in the world. And even for the rest of eternity, they would be his inspiration for how he would live his life, to watch his family continue to grow and change and he would continue creating for them.

IkeVamp Masterlist / General Masterlist

[coruscantiscribbler]

Both Sides Now

I have always thought that Star Wars had an identity crises: they claimed to be targeting a youngish crowd, but they lassoed adults in droves. When they specifically cater to children, the adults go on a rampage. When they finally gift us adults with our first really mature program, Andor, a particularly vocal cross-section was up in arms because they were bored by lack of visual stimulation. It seems that the franchise cannot win.

But Andor did win, and win big it did.

My guest @coruscantiscribbler wrote an essay, There Is Nothing Slow Or Boring About Andor illustrating just this point: Star Wars can produce top notch quality content. While not the rollicking good time delivered by, A New Hope or the angst-laden (but guaranteed to be resolved) Empire Strikes Back, nonetheless, it carves out a genre all to its self.

Scribbs! welcome back to the Asker’s Studio™️, my most frequent and favored guest. You make a lot of concrete points about what Andor is and is not, and what many folks unfortunately missed as they watched. The main point that you make is that both Syril & Andor go through profound changes (to the point of exchanging roles) In Andor, you make this observation:

Cassian had only the desire to get through the next day with enough money for a drink and a boink. But by the time of Rogue One Andor knows not only who he is, but what he is fighting for, and he has gone to serving a higher purpose.

When I read this passage, a distinct arc in the series came to mind: the time in which Andor spends in prison. While others may have felt that Andor was introduced to cooperation in the first arc - when he worked with the rebels to steal the credits - I feel that the real test came when he had to devise an escape plan that required the help of others. I believe that it was the first time Andor really had to break from his self-serving isolation and truly work as a team.

Am I alone in thinking that the prison arc was transformative to Andor, or was this part of your evolutionary observation of Andor? I ask this because most people who did not like the show that of this arc as particularly slow.

For Syril, we can see that the further he gets from the structured environment (that he is initially working under), the more he is stretched beyond his capacity. Eventually, when it all caves, we see the signs of a psychotic break. As we move towards the end of the season, there is a possibility that in saving Diedre, Syril might be redeemed. He might once again have purpose - one that lines up perfectly with his singular obsession with Andor.

Are we are going to find both men firmly ensconced in organizations that ultimately take advantage of both of their skill sets, so that when they next meet, each will have the power of many behind them?

Are we to be pulling the lens back and observing the two entities - Rebels and Imperials - fighting it out, or will we continue to focus more on character-driven development? What would you like to see?

I was moved by the show, but strangely, as a sometimes fic writer, I was not inspired to write anything regarding the content. I began to wonder if my impetus to write was mostly due to frustration by what was lacking, therefore, I set out to improve it with fic. With Andor, everything was as it should be, thus, I had no improvement, no fic.

Have you given any thought to this concept of fic inspired by Andor?

Finally, I wish for you to go where you want with this discussion. My questions seem shallow to me after reading your essay, yet, I wish to delve deeper into the topic of Andor, so please feel free to go in any direction you desire!

Thank you so much for taking the time for this thoughtful and insightful ask. I didn't address the prison episodes because it seemed that many of the people who had given up on Andor cited those first couple of episodes as the reason for their disinterest.

What struck about the prison sequence was how it shone a light on how Cassian Andor is not really a leader. He stays in the background and the shadows and he inspires and pushes others to find their courage and to start to believe and ultimately their voice. He does it with Kino. He does it with Jen in Rogue One. It is Jen who makes the passionate speech to the Rebel council, not Andor. It is Kino who inspires the prisoners to push forward despite the blasters in the hands of the Imperial guards.

This is one of the major reasons I selected Andor as the rebel who recruited Kallus, because that is Cassian's gift and his power. Also based on what I had seen in Andor I realized that the Rebellion would have informants among the joy houses and the bars to tell them when an Imperial was getting shaky.

My prediction is that Syril will become an ISB agent as a reward for helping Dedra so that he has more agency to go after Cassian because this does seem to be a duel between these two young men. It is Dedra and Luthen who will be foils for each other. There has been some confusion over who Axis actually is -- it's not Andor, it's Luthen and that's who Dedra is focused on. Cassian is just a tool to reach the true rebel leader.

I think in season two we will start to see the broader Rebellion taking shape, but great story telling isn't about the spectacle, the massive battle. It's the little falling pebbles ie the characters and their choices, that make for true drama not the avalanche itself. I think is often lost on studios and producers especially in feature films. I don't need twenty minutes of a special effects battle, I need the quiet moments where the real choices are made.

I haven't been inspired to write about Luthen or Dedra or Mon Mothma except as they impinge on the fic I'm writing, but I have been inspired to use the fully fleshed out world that Gilroy presented as regards Coruscant and I've tried to bring that sense of a fully realized world to life. I got really, really tired of dusty planets with marketplaces that looked like something out of the 12th century. I wanted to see not only the glitter of Coruscant, but also the Minneapolis of the Star Wars universe.

There is a reason people are quiet in the face of fascism and it's not just fear, it's also about comfort. "Well, I know the government arrested my neighbor but he was (fill in the blank of whatever scapegoat) and I'm not that person, and I have my job and my kids and my spouse to consider, and if you just comply and follow the law you'l be fine, and things are better than the chaos of the Clone Wars", and so the justifications continue.

[gamerdog1]

Inuyashiki Review

As time goes on, and technology progressively gets more and more complicated, we as humans can’t help but feel a little bit of fear. Any tool or technology, put into the wrong hands, can become a weapon of mass destruction, regardless of original purpose. What happens, then, when a person with a pure heart, and a bitter person, both gain something extraordinary? Will they make changes for the better, or lay waste to this land? All of this is to say, I was assigned the anime adaptation of Hiroya Oku’s hit manga Inuyashiki for my club’s monthly anime exchange. The series, which was surprisingly short, packed a hefty emotional punch, but sometimes left visuals at the wayside.

 Inuyashiki follows the titular character Ichirou Inuyashiki, an elderly-looking 58 year old who is diagnosed with late-stage cancer and given only a few months to live. While standing in a field, he and a highschool boy are struck by a mysterious object, killing them instantly. Their minds are transferred to robotic bodies, which look nearly identical to their original ones, but offer them extraordinary powers. The two grapple with their inhumanity, using their powers to try and regain a lost sense of self, and eventually come into conflict over the lives of Japan itself. 

Much of this series focuses on the deterioration of the human body. From the beginning, the concept of the human body being fragile and weak is ever present, as Inuyashiki is given his cancer diagnosis with little hope of recovery. Only when his body is quite literally destroyed then replaced does his health improve, but then, it is not quite his own. His back pain is gone, but so is his spinal chord, now replaced by rocket boosters. He can take down a few dozen thugs in a fist fight, but doesn’t bleed. His new body is a  spectacle, but also a horror, something which the series doesn’t shy away from discussing. Unlike other popular ‘suddenly-superhero’ anime characters, Inuyashiki is horrified of what his body has become, and takes a while to accept his new form and all it’s abilities. This, is what I believe, makes his story compelling.

Inuyashiki is not your average hero. His combat skills are lacking, and even when he chooses to fight, the computers in his body usually have to finish the job for him. His ranged attacks, while impressive, are rarely under his conscious control, though when they are, he can pull off some insane damage. For the most part, though, Inuyashiki chooses to forgo violence and instead try to help as many people as possible. Despite having at least a dozen cannons attached to his body, he is hesitant to use them, and takes quite a bit of effort to do so. His reluctance to use violence, even in the face of danger, is what makes him such an interesting character, and sets him apart from other anime cyborgs.

Rarely have I seen such a kind-hearted, gentle killer robot in all of my years of watching anime. Over the course of this series’ 11 episodes, I watched this man give everything he had to anyone in need, never asking for a cent in return. He has the sort of generosity and caring that you only ever really find in the elderly, to be honest. It’s not often that I find myself admiring a character of his age, but after seeing all that he had done for the people of Japan, I think I can make an exception just this once.

However, this series wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, at least, for me. I know that it’s a common complaint among anime fans, and at this point, most might be expecting this, but the I didn’t like the CG animation in this series. Please bear with me, as I understand this makes me sound like a whiny weeaboo, but it is important. CG animation is not the killer of anime, as recent shows like Trigun: Stampede have shown. In the right hands, CG has the potential to create charming and lively animation, but in the case of Inuyashiki, it’s clear that it was just used to save money. The series flip-flops between 2-D and 3-D on a whim, giving viewers like me visual whiplash. It makes sense why the studio would use 3-D, given the complexity of the robot bodies, but did they have to swap between styles so often? Perhaps this series would've been better if it had just been 3-D the entire time.

I say that, but the 3-D in this series leaves much to be desired. While not abhorrent to look at, there were times where a character’s expression was clearly supposed to look dramatic, and ended up looking comical. Its never a good sign when a character is fighting for their life, and your first response is to laugh. This series is not that old, too, which makes this even more egregious. If 3-D is the future of anime, someone get me a time machine, I want to go home. 

I wish I could say more positive things about this series, but it’s quite the mixed bag. For every groan-worthy or unintentionally hilarious moment, there were ones that were genuinely heartwarming or memorable. The villain, while a bit confusing motivations-wise, was a genuine threat whose powers were equally silly and terrifying. The dog, Hanako, was adorable, but her barks sounded like they came from an early 2000′s free sound effects pack. There were moments in this series that I really enjoyed, like Inuyashiki saving a woman from being kidnapped by the Yakuza, his unlikely friendship with a boy obsessed with Gantz, and the final fight between him and the main antagonist. This isn’t a terrible series: it’s got a strong emotional center that it uses in healthy amounts to keep audiences worrying for it’s protagonist or important side characters, a catchy opening that I’ve been humming all day, and pretty good fight scenes. If you are willing to look past the CG, give it a shot. It may not be for the faint of heart, but trust me, I’ve seen worse. 

[asterkiss]

Seconds after I posted my last drabble, I reworked it in my head and made it better:

Summary: Mabel meets a guy at the fair. Both catch the others eye for different reasons. 

- COUNTDOWN

Mabel was twelve years old when she died.

But only for five minutes.

Brought back to life due to the wonders of modern medicine and brilliant doctors, the pre-teen was nursed back to health and came away with only a few scars to tell.

Oh, and also a super power.

Or, okay, “super power” might be a weird term but she had no idea what else to call it.

‘What are those numbers over your head?’

‘Numbers?’

The girl nodded, peering at her brother from the hospital bed having recently awoken following surgery. ‘You all have them, it’s weird.’

Her mother chuckled. ‘How big a dose did they give you, honey?’

‘I thought Dipper was the one about numbers,’ their father pointed out, smiling wryly.

Mabel continued to frown however, eyeing the ever changing digits hovering above their heads. They were long strings of numbers, constantly fluctuating up and down in a random manner she couldn’t place.

Weird.

>

The numbers didn’t go away, not even when she was no longer doped up on pain meds They tried to place it as a hallucination, they said it was a “trauma response” following the incident.

Even Dipper didn’t seem to believe her.

‘Mabel, it’s not that I don’t believe you,’ her twin said, as the pair walked down the street towards school. ‘I totally believe that you think what you’re seeing exists...’

She groaned.

‘...but it can’t. There’s no factual reasoning behind such a thing other than it being a visual hallucination. You said when you take your meds that the numbers disappear, right?’

‘Hmmm, well they don’t completely disappear,’ she retorted with a frown. ‘It’s more like they become blurry.’ She huffed. ‘I don’t like those pills, they make me feel sick and nauseous.’ That’s why most of the time she spat them down the toilet.

‘Yeah, that’s why most of the time you spit them down the toilet,’ Dipper drawled, causing her to flush. 

He continued to go on about medical research he had read up on whilst she was in hospital, but Mabel found her gaze caught by a cute kid across the road skateboarding along. Her gaze followed him along the road until her attention landed on something more peculiar.

‘-Yowch!’

‘That’s why you’re meant to look where you’re walking,’ her brother sighed, shaking his head as she stepped away from the lamp post and rubbed her forehead. 

‘I saw something.’

‘Yeah, the skateboarder hunk, gottit.’

‘No.’ A pause. ‘I mean, yes, at first, but that’s not...’ She turned around, gazing around until her eyes fell once again upon the older gentleman walking down the street. With salt and pepper hair and a combed beard, he was dressed in a form fitting suit and carrying a case as he hurried along.

‘What, him? I didn’t think he was your type.’ 

Mabel frowned. ‘The numbers above his head...’

‘What about them?’

‘There’s not a lot.’

Dipper paused, glancing aside at his sister as she spoke quietly. He regarded her subdued demeanour which was very much out of character for her, which ended up putting him on edge too. ‘What’s the number?’

Mabel found her attention glued to the man. The string of numbers above his head had abruptly changed when he turned onto the street. 

‘Fifteen,’ she whispered. ‘No, fourteen... thirteen...’

Dipper’s eyes widened. They were counting down? She’d never mentioned that before. His gaze snapped back to the business man, feeling like he should do something but what?

‘Eight.’

The man stepped out onto the street.

‘Seven.’

A car swerved.

‘Six.’

Dipper’s heart lurched. ‘Watch out!!’

‘Fi...’ Mabel’s voice sputtered in her throat as the vehicle collided with the man, sending his poor frame sailing. His body twisted in the air, limbs breaking from the velocity of impact and Mabel’s blank eyes took in the single digits spinning with his head before he came down.

His body impacted upon the tarmac the same moment the counter struck zero.

Then the screams began.

As did her life of horror.

>

Dipper believed her after that.

‘What about me?’ he asked later that evening, the twins laid in their beds wide awake. Sleep wouldn’t come soon for either of them.

‘Hm?’

‘Above my head,’ he said softly. ‘What do they say? Are they small as well?’

‘No,’ she replied quickly with conviction. ‘You’re fine.’

‘How many...’ He trailed off, clearing his throat. ‘Nevermind, I don’t wanna know. Don’t tell me.’ A pause. ‘Or, I mean, you can tell me if they start getting low. Actually, wait, I don’t wanna know that, that would be awful.’

‘Hey,’ she glanced across at him through the darkness. ‘Make up your mind now.’ She wasn’t gonna have him pestering her like this for the rest of their life.

He groaned. ‘Urgh. Okay, I’ve decided.’ A pause, and he was still deliberating. ‘D... Don’t tell me. Ever.’

‘No?’

‘....No.’

‘Okay, deal,’ she said. Even if his counter got low, she wouldn’t tell him. That was a promise. 

>

Over the years, she got very good at keeping her gaze eye-level. Most of the time she took her prescribed meds which blurred out the numbers and made it a non-issue but feeling like you were constantly going to be sick wasn’t a nice feeling so from time to time she skipped a dose or two. Mostly at big or special events where she wanted to enjoy herself a hundred percent.

Like the town fair.

The pair were visiting their Grunkles up north during a Summer in a tiny town called Gravity Falls when their local fair came to town. Of course the twins leapt at the chance to attend.

Mabel laughed in triumph as she took her prize, grinning ear to ear like a cat following her victory.

‘...You know mom and dad aren’t gonna let you keep him, right?’

She stuck her tongue out at him. ‘They will, who could say no to this cute face?’ She picked up the pig in her arms and shoved his face towards Dipper.

‘Ew, Mabel, gross, keep him away from me, he’s covered in mud!’

As she continuned to coo over the pig and affectionately named him Waddles, Dipper groaned and went off to try and impress the local redhead in some games. Eh, who needed him anyways?

With her new pet on a leash, Mabel stood and began walking. She should probably buy some food for this guy so he didn’t eat everything at home.

Walking with a pet pig wasn’t easy though, the little guy wanted to go in other directions. Mabel yelped when he jerked particularly hard one way and dragged her along until she slammed into somebody.

‘Oop, sorry, pig on a lead!’

The person she had bumped into pulled away, their grimace giving way to confusion at her statement. ‘What?’ 

Mabel raised her head and oooh, hello there. She had a decently nice looking guy before her. Waddles kept trying to pull but suddenly her grip was thrice fold as she stood grinning at a moderately attractive guy. ‘Hey there, name’s Mabel.’

He blinked at her. ‘And?’

‘Ha, you’re so funny!’ she gushed loudly, slapping him playfully on the bicep where her hand may have lingered slightly. Oopsie. And the boy was totalling frowning at her now.

She caught the briefiest glimpse above his head, and whilst years of practice would have made her keep her gaze level and avoid looking up this time she couldn’t help it.

After all, the simple fact was there were no numbers.

Not unless you counted the zero floating above him.

...And yet he continuned to stand before her, looking annoyed.

But that was impossible.

The giddy smile on her face evaporated, instantly replaced with a look of anxiety. But it didn’t matter how many times she blinked, the numbers didn’t lie. 

Mabel suddenly wished Dipper was here.

Until this moment, the guy had seemed keen to get away but upon witnessing the immediate change in her expression he paused, his behaviour also altering in tandem to hers.

‘Oi, what’s wrong?’

‘Ah? Oh, nothing, nothing at all,’ she blurted, backing away with a nervous laugh as she yanked Waddles along with her. 

The guy frowned, looking suspicious as he stepped after her. ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’

‘Like what? I’m not looking like anything, this is just my face! Hah hah, I gotta go, my brother needs me!’

She turned and ran before he could say anything further. Instead of searching for her brother she instead ran all the way to her Grunkles shack, heart accelerating inside her chest.

Zero.

It had been zero.

There were no numbers.

How was he still standing? How was he still talking? Still breathing? It didn’t make sense!

‘Urgh, I feel sick,’ she groaned, dropping onto her bed. So much for not taking her meds.

‘Oi Mabel, why the fuck is there a pig eating my newspaper!?’

‘Language, Stanley!’

‘He also ate your research papers.’

‘What!?’

>

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yep.’

‘Positive?’

‘Yes.’

‘You’re sure it wasn’t like the light, or something in your eye?’

‘I know what I saw, Dipper,’ she scowled at him. ‘You were too busy flirting with Wendy so don’t argue about what I saw.’

Her brother flushed at that. ‘I wasn’t flirting...’

‘And they say I’m bad at lying.’

Dipper sighed, sitting on the edge of his bed. ‘Maybe he died for a bit, and was brought back?’

‘Then why do I have numbers?’ Mabel asked, arching an eyebrow. She had looked in the mirror first thing she noticed her pecuilar power, and indeed she had a (thankfully) long string of numbers as well.

‘Hm.’ Dipper held his chin, deep in thought. ‘It’s a shame we can’t ask Grunkle Ford, he’d be good at this.’ He glanced up, meeting her gaze meaningully. Mabel grimaced, averting her gaze as she fidgeted. She didn’t want to tell anyone. They’d tried it as kids and everytime she got told she was crazy and forced to have more pills. She didn’t like it. She liked their Grunkles, and they seemed to like her - she didn’t want to ruin that. 

Her twin sighed, and when she glanced back he was leaning back. ‘Alright, just a thought. We can handle it ourselves then. I mean, who knows, maybe it was just a glitch or something.’

‘A glitch?’

‘Like a computer error. You know. Computers have binary codes which are also strings of numbers. If something goes wrong then you get an error message.’

Mabel scowled. ‘I’m not a computer, Dipper.’

‘All humans are, we’re just slabs of meat being told what to do by a computer in our heads.’

Aaaand there he went off, spouting stuff he’d read online. Mabel rolled her eyes, before glancing briefly at the numbers above his head. Just a quick look. Just every so often. Just to reassure herself he wasn’t going anywhere.

....Hm?

Her smile wavered slightly. Were those numbers a lot less than yesterday or was she imagining things?

Her hands clenched in her lap, heart squeezing anxiously.

There was that sick feeling again.

>

A pair of glowing eyes peered through the darkness, regarding the Shack in the woods. The young man’s gaze focused on the window high above, watching the shadows cast by a pair from within.

His eyes narrowed, lips twisting.

Eventually the man with no numbers above him turned and melted into the night.

Meanwhile, Mabel’s heart sputtered as she watched the numbers above her twin brother leap abruptly down, several digits falling off into nothing.

This time, she really did throw up.

Mabel got to see Dipper’s time go from something like “2,522,880,000″ to “2,419,200″ in a second. Oof.

[twdmusicboxmystery]

TWD 11x20: What’s Been Lost - Analysis, Part 3

Yesterday, I wanted to repost the stuff that my fellow theorists had come up with that struck me as important for what’s going on now (the spinoff officially starting to film) but here is some more discussion about ep 20. 

@wdway:

Here are the shots of Bob from Alone and Lance in this episode. 

And I know that we've had lots of shots from above of different people laid out. Daryl comes to mind from Always Accountable and I should have tied that one in also, but when I saw Lance, this shot of Bob immediately came to mind. Especially since I had thought about the remix of the scene between Daryl and Carol and Beth and Daryl from Alone. I don't know why Lance and Bob would be tied together. I just know this looks like a visual clue to me. My takeaway is that we're getting closer and closer to Beth.

@galadrieljones

All this is great. I am glad you reminded me of Carol’s “I won’t leave you,” comment, as I meant to include that in my section about her being a Beth proxy. I saw that too. I think so many of these scenes can be interpreted in a lot of ways, and like you said, @wday, they just all seem to point to 4b-5a and more specifically Beth.

When I saw Lance lying on the ground like that, and then they did a pan of the stars in the sky I thought it might be commentary on how he couldn’t change his stars. I didn’t know what that meant. I think there’s something to be said about who we were. Who we BECOME is important, but we can’t forget where we come from and who we used to be. Remembering our roots, even if it’s painful, makes us stronger once we see how far we’ve come.

@wdway:

I thought of a possible tie for the Bob and Lance overhead shot. In Alone the shot in early in the episode. Soon after Bob meets Daryl and Glenn on the road and goes back to a new community. In this episode Lance's shot is near the end of the episode. Daryl and Carol is headed to follow the train that will take them to new community. Daryl is the common denominator.

@twdmusicboxmystery:

Yeah for sure! I like it!

I thought more about what you said above about adding in Daryl from 6x06. I’m not sure they’re the same thing. They’re definitely related (cuz Beth and Daryl symbolism) but I think they’re conveying different things. The point of Bob and Lance, in my mind, is that they’re alone in the wide universe. Bob’s shot is in the episode called Alone, and as you say, it’s right before he finds his next family/community. 

Lance died alone because he was never loyal to anyone but himself and his own ambitions. Bob did not. While he was alone for a time, he died with friends and loved ones around him, who cared enough and felt his loss deeply enough to mourn him. And that makes all the difference.

In AA, the shot of Daryl lying beside the walker is, in my mind, more trying to convey his emptiness. His search for someone who isn’t by his side at present. The walker he lays by isn’t unlike what you’ve both said this season about the empty chairs: they represent Beth being there, present in his mind, but not there physically.

Just my interpretation, tho. 

@galadrieljones:

Also, I’ll admit I was watching on my phone and it was dark and I couldn’t SEE a lot of that scene w Lance, Daryl, and Carol in the end. Was that a house or a train in the distance? I think it’s possible they all end up in the same place. If the bus is calling back to season 4, then there’s a Terminus on the horizon—the place where all lines converge.

@wdway:

Oh, yes, the WHITE bus. In Self-Help Team D.C. left the white church in a white bus. When it later overturned, we saw a shot of Eugene with the license tag which was the same tag number as the black car, white cross license tag number. Also the same as the blue truck tag in the garage that Daryl and the Claimers stay at and the same tag on one of the police cars from Grady. I guess it would be too much to hope for that we will see the license tag on this white bus and it would be the same number. That doesn't mean that I won't be looking. ;D

Guys, did you notice that Eugene was in a blue, not orange, prison jumpsuit with a nod to s4e10 Inmates. Instead of an orange jumpsuit that usually says PRISONER, Eugene had a blue jumpsuit with INMATE.

@galadrieljones:

I feel they’re just showering us in imagery from 4b-5a right now. We’re in the final coda no doubt.

Also, I had totally forgotten about the white bus in Self-Help. Nice catch!!!!

@twdmusicboxmystery:

Yeah, for sure. I totally hope we see the license plate. I hadn't thought of that. And your comment about who we become made me remember something I keep meaning to mention. We've heard a LOT of episode titles in these past episodes. What Comes After. Alone. Who Are You Now. There have been others. And really, those are show-wide themes, so they're working them into the dialogue of these final episodes. Just really interesting.

In terms of what Carol and Daryl saw, I'm pretty sure it was a train station. So, not unlike the platform they all stood on talking about Pamela's plan. Just a place the train would theoretically stop. But they didn't see the train itself. That's why they were surprised and remarked about the CW having an actual, working train. The station might have been built before the turn, but it's surprising they have a working one that might actually pass by periodically. So, the idea, as they said, is that they'll wait for the train to pass and either hop aboard or follow behind it.

And you're both hitting on the reasons I said before that the train is so important. I definitely agree that it's a replay of Terminus, but this is also the second time around. There's also the fact that in 5x09, part of the hallucination having to do with Beth was the camera moving along train tracks through the woods. Now, we're seeing that again. So, anything that involves a train or train tracks is, in my opinion, indicative of her, her arc, or something leading to it.

And that already makes sense based on what we've seen. I'm assuming Daryl and Carol will eventually end up at whatever place Zeke and co were taken. That's where the leaked footage of them escaping and Daryl carrying Judith will take place. If the CRM shows up there (and we can kind see a black vehicle behind Zeke, so I think they will) and Beth is with them, then these train tracks are leading to her arc and reveal.

Anyway, good stuff. I also keep meaning to say that I loved that Carol called Ezekiel "Zeke" when he disappeared. I'm not sure we've ever heard her do that before. If we have, I didn't catch it. I just always notice that most people call him by his full name, Ezekiel. I usually call him Zeke, but that's just me being lazy and not wanting to type out the entire thing, lol. So, when she called him Zeke, it made me illogically happy. ;D

@galadrieljones:

OKAY that makes sense. A train station. Omg what’s going to happen there?? I’m too intrigued.

@twdmusicboxmystery:

IKR? @wdway observed that in the earlier scene on the platform, Carol and Daryl walked away from one another, and Daryl picked up the apple (often indicative of separation). It makes me thinks Carol and Daryl’s separation might play out here. But that also seems like it will happen too soon and too abruptly. So… ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

@galadrieljones:

Remembering at Terminus, too, who are the two characters that are not there? Beth and Carol. Those are also the two characters who were removed from the main timeline/train tracks and abducted away to Grady. They are Daryl’s two women (sister/lover). I wouldn’t be surprised if a separation happened here.

But I also wouldn’t be surprised if a convergence happened first. It seems foreboding, like something dark is on the horizon. Lance is a snake. Did he lead them astray? Is there a dark force awaiting them in that train station? Is it a “portal” to the past or future, like Leah’s cabin?

@twdmusicboxmystery:

Yeah, that’s a good point. I hadn’t thought of that but given that he tried to kill time when they cut him loose, and that he kind of abandoned Carol in the dark tunnel place (I couldn’t tell exactly what that was supposed to be either) he really could have been planning to lead them into a trap.

@wdway:

I'm so looking forward to seeing Daryl court Beth. I think/hope that this will be TWD true romance novel of TWDU. Tptb has called the Rick/Michonne spin-off an epic love story and I'm sure it will be, but it will be a couple that was established before the separation. A renewing of their love story but not the beginning. Whereas what we have with Daryl and Beth will be hopefully a true romance an epic romance and that is what they have saved Daryl for this story. 

I remember Lynn Collins on TTD saying that the viewers didn't see Leah and Daryl kiss because of the covid virus restrictions, and the writer jumped in quickly to state that at no time was there ever a plan for a kiss between the two. She wanted to make it perfectly clear that it had nothing to do with the covid restrictions. So why would she be so adamant in letting the viewers know that? Because Daryl's first kiss on screen will be an epic moment in his story.

@galadrieljones:

I have so many head canons for them. It’s a little ridiculous at this point.

@twdmusicboxmystery:

Same. Only 1 billion head canons. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

@galadrieljones:

I’ve thought about whether he might see her through glass at first, like in a research facility, re: the Snow-White theme. The building would be burning or something and he’d have to get in. I’ve thought about her treating him before he wakes up, and then she leaves, not remembering him, and Daryl has visions of her like in the Little Mermaid lol. I wonder if Daryl will meet back up with Morgan, and he’ll be with Beth. Morgan never met her.

(So, he’d have no idea what was going on lol)

Anyway, I’ll stop. :D

@twdmusicboxmystery:

Yeah, I’m the same way. I always think about characters she might be with. Heath. Morgan’s group. Jadis. TWB characters. I have an illogical desire for Beth and Silas to be pals. And of course he and Daryl eventually will be too. I have one where she sees Judith. In this one, she doesn’t have memory loss. Of course Judith looks very different from when she was a baby, but maybe she still recognizes the eyes or something. Kind of a spidey sense. And then Judith even says her name, and Beth thinks, “huh, that’s a weird coincidence.” (Because she thinks Judith died as a baby at the prison.) Then she says something like, “as long as your last name isn’t Grimes.” And of course Judith says it is. Cue Beth to turn into a puddle on the floor.

Yeah, I have ones where she’s lost her memory, and ones where she hadn’t. I often think of her helping him from afar. Like things he needs showing up mysteriously. Or he’s about to die (cuz zombies) and some sniper on a ridge saves his life, and he has no idea who it is. And it’s always her helping him from afar. Of course, he’ll realize it’s her at SOME point, which is where it gets fun. I could go on and on. But, I won’t. ;D

@wdway:

@twdmusicboxmystery, can go on and on and on as much as you like with your head cannons. I love every one of them. Same goes for you, @galadrieljones.

I have an episode question. I didn't quite get why Carol and Lance went into what was basically the tombs; that cave-like sewer deal. Would you clear that up for me. Didn't get it other than some type of weird tie in to the subway in the first this season or the water, sewer system at AZ where Carl died.

To tell you the truth, my first thought was that they came out the same place they entered. Logically they must have gone through to another opening. From the previews I wonder if this is the same place we see some of the scenes of them in some kind of similar situation with other TF members.

@galadrieljones:

I am not sure, but I do have it in my notes as an “infrastructure repair project” that the CW abandoned because of too many “cave-ins.” I kind of thought it was a tunnel? Like for a road or train tracks. I read it as a reference to the cave-in in season 9, which is a manifestation of one of Carol’s past sins. She has to kill a bunch of walkers in there in the pitch dark, and I believe Lance may have led her in there purposely to try and lose her, but I’m not sure.

It could also be a tunnel under a bridge. The word infrastructure makes me think it is a part of how the CW moves supplies.

I remember something interesting about it though. There was a large amount of “skin” stretched over a table or something? I think they comment on it but don’t linger too long.

@twdmusicboxmystery:

Yeah, that’s right. And it smelled super bad. That’s gotta mean something.

@galadrieljones:

One thing that’s going on this season is we’re seeing a really effed up version of the human condition. Those cannibalistic freaks in Connie and Virgil’s funhouse. The deformed men Maggie saw and their limbless, silent wives. The walkers with their vocal cords cut in the sewer. The way the Reapers hang their kills upside down. Now a bunch of skin in a tunnel somewhere? The world is getting more and more hellish, it seems. Like it’s getting further and further away from its humanity.

Honestly the last time we saw something like this was in 4b-5a with the Claimers and then the Termites. Those groups were truly terrifying and indications that sometimes, evil wins.

This then progressed to the Wolves who would dismember people and killed indiscriminately. There was also the evidence of a horrible, dark massacre at Pine Vista. It’s like what Lori says, which is that the only thing more terrifying than the dead is the living.

@wdway:

What you mentioned about all these horrible situations that have been brought to light especially this season reminded me of something Greg said about the Country Club in Still about it being the nine levels of hell like in Dante's tale.

[jeremy-ken-anderson]

A Curious Debate

So a huge fan of Dead Cells had a problem specifically with Continue Mode - a part of their accessibility-focused “Breaking Barriers” patch.

They didn’t have a problem with other assist modes - options allowing players to autoattack, to use sliders to set damage taken and enemy hp, to expand parry windows for folks with mental/physical disability. They specifically felt as if Continue Mode unmakes something fundamental to the game. To them, Dead Cells is a roguelike, and with Continue Mode on Dead Cells is not a roguelike because it allows them to continue from the start of a zone instead of the roguelike tradition of restarting a run.

After some thought, what I came to was this:

They are correct that Continue Mode unmakes something fundamental to the game as they experience it.

Also, that does not matter.

If there were (and indeed maybe there is) a War of the Lions Story Mode mod that makes all of the battles in Final Fantasy Tactics trivial so that a player can just steamroll all the fights, then FFT becomes fundamentally not a tactical game. And...that’s fine. At that point it’s basically a visual novel with odd graphics; a really good visual novel, because FFT has a really good story. If it stops being a tactical game and only the story is left and someone needs that because it’s all - for whatever reason - they’re able to experience?

That’s fine.

Would they save time by watching a playthrough somewhere? Maybe. But nothing is lost for people who like tactics games if the game itself includes a button you can turn on to make the tactics game not a tactics game anymore.

All of this logic applies to Dead Cells as well, but moreso. Dead Cells loses one of three of its best-known gameplay concepts: No more permadeath, but it’s still a reflex-based platformer with persistent progression between a set of runs. The only difference is until you beat a final boss you get to decide when a run is over instead of having it decided for you. It struck me partway into writing this that Continue Mode might provide accessibility for people with certain kinds of anxiety; that the increased agency may change it from a game they literally can’t stand to play into a game they can.

If we accept that some players will never be able to experience the depths and intricacies of the game at the level of the superfan, we have a choice: Tell them they cannot experience the game, because we cannot provide all of it at once, or provide tools to let them experience as much of the game as they can. No part of the game is above this. The tactics bit of Final Fantasy TACTICS is not above this. What part of the game CAN we let them enjoy? We should let them enjoy that much.

I don’t think the fan who started the conversation is bad or attempting to gatekeep. I think they’re just confusing “full experience” with “real experience.”

With the full assist modes, a blind person has successfully beaten The Last of Us 2 on their own, which is largely a stealth/shooter game. They didn’t get to experience most of the aiming, and they didn’t get to experience any of the thrilling graphics. But they did get to experience the story, to use auditory cues to engage with the combat system, to explore terrifying spaces and cope with the horrors both human and supernatural.

[friday12econlive]

A Microeconomic Analysis of my Experience during the COVID-19 Pandemic

COVID-19 undoubtedly had a drastic effect on many peoples' lives as it spread around the globe. One such impact is the way it altered many of our routines and consumption preferences, including the way we dine.

Uber Eats (2023). [Uber Eats logo].

At the height of the pandemic I was in the middle of my second year at community college, and like many people, I had a lot of spare time. I figured I should look for work and eventually signed up for the food delivery service, UberEats. The business works by contracting ordinary people who own a vehicle to deliver food from restaurants to private households. Before the pandemic struck, platforms like this were large, but still burgeoning. Prior to the height of the pandemic I was curious about the app and asked friends what sort of pay they were receiving to do deliveries for UberEats. At first, I was underwhelmed when I heard that they were making anywhere from $10 to $15 for an hour of work.  Once the pandemic struck however, the growth of the industry really took off. The graphic below comes from an article entitled “The Pandemic has More than Doubled Food-Delivery Apps’ Business. Now What?” written by tech reporter Levi Sumagaysay of MarketWatch. What the visual shows is that UberEats and many other platforms brought in considerably more revenue in Q3 of 2020, at the height of the Coronavirus pandemic, compared to Q2 of 2019.

Market Watch (2023). [The COVID-19 Delivery Boom].

Around the same time, I had once again asked my friends who had signed up for the app what their pay was and they told me they were now making anywhere from $20 to $25 an hour. Hearing this, I eagerly signed up and started doing deliveries. The growth of this industry and my decision to enter the job market could be understood through the concepts of supply and demand and producers’ willingness to sell. There are several firms in this industry and they all supply mostly identical products so we can say that the market for food delivery apps is roughly competitive. Though real world markets are more complicated than perfectly competitive models, granting a few simplifying assumptions can provide some useful explanation of these developments. For instance, the pay increase that me and my friends observed and the increased revenue these firms were generating could be attributed to a shift in market demand for UberEats. A factor that might increase the quantity of food deliveries demanded at every price level is a change in consumer preference.

UC Berkley (2023). [Social Distancing].

Because people were afraid of getting sick, they stayed indoors more often and their preferences went away from in-person dining, towards contactless food delivery. This increase in demand would induce upward pressure on the market clearing price as well as the quantity of deliveries supplied by the typical firm at the point where their marginal revenue equals their marginal cost. From the perspective of UberEats, the marginal revenue they get from the output which is equal to the new market price has increased, incentivizing them to produce more deliveries. In this graph below, this is depicted by an increase in quantity supplied by the firm from Q*1 to Q*2.

In order to supply a greater quantity at Q*2 however, a firm in this market will need more inputs for production, one of which being labor. Seeing opportunity for greater profits, firms like UberEats would have a need for more delivery drivers that perform the actual delivery service. At every price level, the quantity demanded for delivery drivers would increase. Graphically this can be represented by a shift rightward in the demand curve in the labor market, which we also take to be competitive. The labor market, which is governed by the same laws of supply and demand as any other competitive market, would see an increase in both quantity supplied and price at equilibrium due to the increased employer demand. What this meant for drivers, myself included, was that the number of job openings increased and the typical wage they received for their work went up.

Consequently, both surplus for consumers (employers) and surplus for suppliers (drivers) grew. This is because the willingness for employers to pay for labor less the cost they paid for it as well as the willingness for drivers to sell their labor subtracted from the pay they earned both increased. The surplus for employers such as UberEats and drivers before and after the increase in demand can be represented by a graph of total surplus. In the graph shown below, following the demand shift, the area encompassing employer surplus increased from E+B to E+F . Likewise, the area encompassing drivers’ surplus went from A to A+B+C+D. The increase in total surplus attributed to demand shift is visually represented by the regions C+D+F.

Because the increase in pay that drivers were receiving surpassed the minimum dollar amount that I was willing to sell my labor for, I decided to sign up for the app. The surplus I received from this decision would be captured in the region D which represents the increase in producer surplus attributed to all new driver entrants in the market. Since new entrants such as myself could offer services at a lower cost compared to those who refrained from entering the market despite the pay increase, overall economic well being increased. What this demonstrates is that even under tumultuous circumstances like a global pandemic, markets are resilient and an economy with versatile supply and demand benefits society as a whole.

Works Cited:

Sumagaysay, Levi. “The Pandemic Has More than Doubled Food-Delivery Apps’ Business. Now What?” MarketWatch, 27 Nov. 2020, www.marketwatch.com/story/the-pandemic-has-more-than-doubled-americans-use-of-food-delivery-apps-but-that-doesnt-mean-the-companies-are-making-money-11606340169.

Uber Eats (2023). [Uber Eats logo]. Retrieved from https://www.ubereats.com/

UC Berkley (2023). [Social Distancing Clipart]. Retrieved from https://supplychain.berkeley.edu/supply-chain-responses-covid-19

Carlos J. Berton

UCID: 42647315

ECON 20A DIS 62141 (Fridays @ 12pm)

[libermachinae]

Notes: baby robot

—

“602 RPS. Fuel pressure 124 over 75. Circuits holding—”

“Prowl, come.”

Prowl glanced up from the monitor for just an astrosec. Mesothulas was standing in front of the CR chamber, leaned so close he was nearly touching the casing, well beyond the limits of safety protocols. Even from up here in the observation deck, Prowl could see the way he quivered, fingers flexing as though he really intended to brush them over the freezing pod. He’d spoken without looking away from it, optics fixed on the narrow porthole, its view blocked from Prowl’s gaze by the glare of the lab’s lighting.

When he looked back, RPS had dropped to 598.

“I can observe plenty from up here,” he said, logging the change along with the rest of the readout flashing across his display. The system would do it automatically, but keeping his own logs allowed him to feed the data directly into his risk analysis programs, their last safeguard against any unexpected chain reactions. Reversal and shutdown commands remained queued and at the ready.

“But he can’t see you,” Mesothulas insisted, still with his gaze on the pod. There was a mechanical growl deep within the machine, systems warming to protect them against the coming temperature snap.

“I’ll introduce myself later,” Prowl promised. He had a script prepared, easily integrated into the standard basic function tests he’d plucked from the ruins of Petrex’s last construction center. It would serve to demonstrate the construct’s ability to differentiate itself from other people and recognize when it was being addressed, provided current readings held steady and they actually made it that far. “I need to keep monitoring in case of—”

“In case of what, Prowl? Our design is without flaw. He’s perfect.” Mesothulas did touch the pod then, yanking away and shaking out his hand when the cold bit back. “We’ve already run every test, accounted for every variable. You said yourself, nothing will go wrong.”

“Because I’m up here, making sure it doesn’t.” There was a hiss as the internal ventilations started to draw out the freezing gasses, and a fog appeared over the porthole as moisture in the air responded to the change in temperature. Mesothulas leaned close again, and this time Prowl decided not to bother worrying about it. “I don’t understand why this is an issue. We haven’t installed its datalogging software yet; it won’t remember any of this.”

There was a lot he didn’t understand about Mesothulas, but most of the time that worked to his benefit, their different priorities allowing them to easily collaborate by taking over parts of each project the other had no interest in. It was rare for them to clash, and if it caused him to add a few extra lines to his spreadsheets as he accelerated his tracking speed, the construct certainly wouldn’t suffer for it.

“He, Prowl. He has his own spark.”

And going by the standards Prowl had grown up with, that put it in the animate category, a step above mechanized but not yet in the autonomous phase that signified life. But that was for spliced sparks, borrowed identities who only became individuals once introduced to a unique processor sequence. He and Mesothulas had gone back and forth on what this meant for the construct, whose spark had been struck from as close to nothing as one could, and Prowl was smart enough to know it was not a discussion worth bringing up now.

“And it’s important because we’re not just introducing ourselves: we’re introducing the entire universe to him. We’re his first impression of everything. I’m not letting you waste that opportunity.”

There was a hiccup in Prowl’s momentum as Mesothulas’ sentiments caused his processor to pick up a memory. Its low priority weighed against the negligible file size meant that despite considering deleting it as it lost relevance with each new change to his life, he’d kept it buried in his archive. The auditory component had become uncoupled during one of his early processor crashes, so all he had left was the visual, grainy with the degradation of multiple transfers and processor upgrades. The file played and his optical feed came online to two Cybertronians, one standing back with a datapad while the other stood closer, his optics fixed on Prowl. They were both talking, but Prowl hadn’t bothered to watch their lips: all his focus had been on their plating, his first thoughts a string of hexidecimal codes as he tried to track all the ways their paint reacted to light and shadow.

It was not a long memory. He’d dropped offline almost immediately, having overwhelmed his processor before his temperature controls had finished booting up, and after that he’d had a specialist team to finish his construction. Though he’d had access to the database, he’d never bothered to go looking up the names of the first two bots he’d seen. Their role in his life had been all but inconsequential, compared to the engineers who spent decacycles making sure his spark and frame could maintain the advanced tactical suite he’d been built for.

“I’ll make sure the construct functions long enough to see any of it,” he said, returning his focus to the monitors. 608 RPS.

He thought he caught a glint of yellow from where Mesothulas stood.

“P—”

“Vacuum seal releasing.”

There was a louder hiss as a plume of white mist escaped the seams of the pod door. Mesothulas jumped away from it, then moved back in as soon as it had dissipated, hands up like he wanted to help the door along as it pushed out and then slid aside on a silent track. More mist spilled out, blanketing the floor around Mesothulas’ pedes, but it was hard to tell whether his slight hop step was from pain or eagerness.

“Surge guards holding,” Prowl reported. “Autonomics steady. Entering second stage bootup.”

Mesothulas gasped and Prowl looked up, concerned, but found himself just as startled. Bioillumination was a hallmark of stage two and not in itself surprising. Even the brilliant intensity, light stretching beyond the confines of the pod, was to be expected, given that they hadn’t installed any code to regulate it yet. Mesothulas just hadn’t told him the optics would be blue.

“Sys-systems disconnecting from external fuel supply,” he stammered, feeling a rush of embarrassment before he composed himself. “Fuel pressure 121 over 74.”

Mesothulas made no indication he heard, and a moment later Prowl realized he wasn’t listening at all: he was talking to the construct, his voice a low murmur Prowl couldn’t hear from his place on the observation deck.

“Entering third stage. Somatic systems coming online.”

The construct turned to look at Mesothulas. Even turned away, Prowl somehow knew the scientist was beaming, his lesson from earlier the only thing keeping him from reaching into the pod and wrapping himself around his creation like he was wont to do with Prowl.

And then Mesothulas stepped back and to the side, pointing up at the platform still without his optics leaving the construct.

“And that’s Prowl,” he said, finally loud enough for his voice to carry. “He’s worked just as hard.”

Those blue optics turned to him. Prowl knew it was only the most basic coding compelling the construct to follow the movement of Mesothulas’ finger, its bare processor unable to even register him as a separate element from his environment, let alone a fellow Cybertronian. But there was something about being caught in that gaze, watching the lenses attempt to focus when there wasn’t enough data yet to tell them what to focus on, that caused him to raise his hand in an uncertain wave.

“You’ll get the chance to meet him later, I promise,” Mesothulas said, drawing the construct’s attention back to him. “Ostaros, we have so much more to show you. You can’t imagine.”

It couldn’t, Prowl mused, watching Mesothulas attempt to link his fingers with those of his creation and pulling away with a hiss at the subsequent reminder. But this period of emptiness would not last forever. Like the science that had formed its impossible spark, the construct—Ostaros—would come into being, something pulled from nothing, a person just as much as himself or Mesothulas. Prowl would introduce himself then, to whoever it was that Ostaros became.

[teawaffles]

Louis and the Aquaria: Chapter 3, Part 2

The next morning.

After yesterday’s incident, Moran was keen to know what Louis would do next — and so he headed to the hall with Fred, who presently had some time to spare. Perhaps it was because he’d been working late into the night, for Fred kept yawning as he rubbed his bleary eyes.

But the moment Moran pushed open the hall door, the startling sight before them banished all of Fred’s sleepiness in a flash.

“This is……”

“What the heck is this?” Moran exclaimed.

Dumbfounded, the two men stood where they were.

One corner of the hall—— had been turned into a dense jungle.

Numerous South American trees, planted in giant pots, were now surrounding the angelfish tank. At the same time, the two men were struck by the feeling that somehow, the room’s humidity had risen since yesterday.

Hearing Moran’s shout, Louis poked his head out from behind an ivy-wrapped tree.

“You’re being much too loud in the morning, Mr Moran. It’ll stress out the fish, so please refrain from shouting; but what on earth’s the matter?”

“That’s my line: what have you done here?!”

A flash of light gleamed off Louis’s spectacles.

“I was seeking a more conducive environment for my bro—…… no, the fish, so I have recreated a South American rainforest here. They were ordered a few days earlier, and arrived last night; I’ve just finished arranging them.”

Apparently, the luxurious water plants had just been the beginning for Louis. Even so, Moran had not expected this much progress in one night.

The situation raised so many questions that he had no idea where to begin. But for now, Moran refused to back down, and raised one of the problems at hand.

“First off, you were obviously going to say ‘my brothers’, but still: don’t talk about such grand feats as ‘recreating South America’ so lightly! No, I had a feeling about this. A normal person would reflect on what happened yesterday, and restrain themselves after that — but for you, you’re the type who ends up going amok instead. And yet, I didn’t think you’d do something as drastic as this!”

Moran had launched into a heated tirade, but Louis kept his cool as he replied.

“Thank you for taking the time to point out each and every one of those things. However, I believe I’m treating all of the fish equally; and in my view, it’s unfair to say that I’m favouring some of them just because some plants have been placed at specific areas.”

“What kinda nerve is that, to not even admit it after going this far…….. I mean, you are actually a little aware of it, aren’t you?”

“Also, it’s actually quite amazing that you’ve managed to remain calm all this while, Mr Louis……”

Even after weathering that torrent of questions, Louis was unmoved — and if anything, that had inspired a sense of awe within Fred.

“Well, it was us who said you were free to do as you liked. In any case, your love towards your brothers is certainly terrifying.”

To Moran, it seemed meaningless to continue arguing with the youngest son of the Moriartys, who stubbornly refused to acknowledge his biased rearing of the fish. He gave up trying to persuade Louis, and went on to watch the fish as he normally did.

“…………”

He tried to focus on the vibrant fish before him. And yet, Moran couldn’t help but notice the trees standing at the edge of his sight.

Tormented by that conflict, he finally succumbed to temptation. With sure steps, Moran made his way toward the vegetation, and Fred followed cautiously behind him.

“……Well, if they’re already here, we may as well enjoy them to the fullest.”

Mumbling to no one in particular, Moran walked up to the row of trees. Using one arm to push away the leaves in his path, he moved through the greenery; then, his gaze landed on an aquarium placed on a nearby table. Inside, were some animals with incredibly striking colourations.

“What’re these?”

“They’re indeed very colourful,” Fred remarked.

Within the tank were several tiny frogs. They were a deep blue, and mottled with red.

The two men were full of questions about the presence of these unfamiliar creatures. Nevertheless, out of sheer curiosity, they moved their faces near the tank and peered in.

Louis, who was feeding the other fish, called out to them in a loud voice.

“Please don’t open the tank lid: they may look beautiful, but they secrete a lethal poison so deadly that some indigenous tribes of South America use it to coat the tips of their blowdarts.”

In an instant, Moran and Fred leapt away from the tank. Due to their natural athleticism, the distance they’d retreated was further than that of the average person.

As it were, they had narrowly escaped the jaws of death. But even as the sudden appearance of these poisonous frogs gave them chills, Moran stilled his pounding heart, and shot Louis a look of anger.

“Why are such dangerous things here?! Even recreating a South American environment has its limits, doesn't it?!”

“My apologies. One of my motivations was indeed to recreate the fishes’ native habitat. But more than that, I wanted to prepare for a scenario where Stapleton expresses an interest in other creatures besides fish. Hence, I began rearing these frogs just in case.”

As he said that, Louis made his way beside the tank. Opening the lid just a crack, he tossed in some tiny insects: food for the frogs.

“…………”

Seeing his practiced hand, at this point, the other two men had nothing else to say. In this extraordinary space created within the mansion they lived in on a daily basis, their ability to process information had long since hit its limit.

After confirming that the frogs had eaten their fill, Louis proceeded on an efficient path around the room to check on the rest of the tanks.

Moran gazed into the distance.

“It sure is amazing, what people can do in such a short time……”

But excessive zeal, once taken in the wrong direction, can lead to outcomes no one would’ve expected.

Even as various points had deeply impressed upon them just how amazing Louis was, at the same time, Moran and Fred also grew conscious of a certain truth in life. Once again, they stepped through the row of trees.

The two men parted the curtain of leaves, some part of them nervously wondering if those dangerous frogs had escaped, and walked up to the aquarium they had in mind.

“Oh, there they are.”

Seeing that the tank itself hadn’t changed, Moran finally breathed a sense of relief, and went on to admire the three “Moriarty brothers” swimming within.

The one at the head of the group was ‘William’. Right behind him was ‘Albert’, then ‘Louis’. Within the jungle Louis had created, the three angelfish shone in a way that lived up to their angelic names.

However, in contrast to the joyful Moran, Fred’s expression was serious. He narrowed his eyes slightly.

“Don’t you think…… its movements are a bit awkward?”

“Ah?”

Moran stared at the focus of Fred’s attention. Immediately, he perceived a subtle change in that fish.

Although it seemed perfectly fine at first glance, if one were to observe all three of them carefully, it was clear that the one at the head of the group was swimming a little differently from the other two.

“Is there something wrong?”

Louis came over, sensing something was off. But even before Fred explained the situation, he noticed the abnormality with ‘William’.

He put his face close to the tank, observing the fish for a few moments; but gradually, his expression turned grave.

“Oi, Louis: what on earth’s going on? Could it be that he’s sick?” Moran asked.

Louis placed a hand under his chin, thought for a split second, then quickly made a decision.

“——First, let’s move it to a separate tank. There’s a smaller one near the hall entrance: Mr Moran, please bring it here. Fred: please read the measurements from the devices installed on this tank and report them.”

Hearing those instructions, the two men assumed their roles at once.

Meanwhile, Louis took a notepad from his breast pocket, and checked the emergency response measures he’d studied on his own. Though he had already memorised all of them, he wanted to avoid any potential for error.

Moran returned with a small tank.

“Oi, is this one alright?”

“Yes, thank you.”

First, Louis transferred some water from the angelfishes’ tank into the one Moran brought over, such that it was deep enough for one fish. Then, he set up some equipment to confirm the water temperature and quality once more, then added a bit of salt to the water.

Watching him, Moran cocked his head.

“Why’re you adding salt?”

“Saltwater is an effective treatment for diseases in fish. Though it certainly isn’t all-powerful.” [1]

Saying that, Louis used a net to gently scoop up ‘William’ and move it to the tank they’d prepared. Although there were drawbacks to isolating sick fish, his priority was to stop the disease from spreading, as well as limit any damage that could be caused by the other fish.

As he worked, Louis listened to the measurements Fred read out, but his puzzlement only deepened.

“The water quality and temperature are both normal. As far as I can see, there isn’t any obvious debris or dirt in the tank, and the equipment doesn’t seem to be malfunctioning. In that case, perhaps some foreign substance had entered its food, or maybe it got stressed from its surroundings……”

“Maybe it got bullied by the other fish?” Moran asked.

Louis immediately dismissed that idea. “From what I’ve observed, there were no such quarrels between them. In that case, another possibility I can think of is the change in its environment.”

He cast a sideways glance at the trees surrounding them. And Fred picked up the implication behind that casual gesture.

“By ‘stress’, do you mean these trees? But it’s not like they came into contact with the water, so they probably didn’t impact the water quality, at least not directly. Also, weren’t they only added a while ago? To affect the fish so rapidly……”

“We can’t dismiss that possibility. Perhaps the changes to the view outside the tank had caused some visual stress…… Well, regardless of the reason, the blame for its ill health rests with me: the one in charge of its care.”

“…………”

After isolating the fish, the three of them remained standing where they were.

They gazed at the sick angelfish, swimming alone in its tank, with a sense of misery and frustration growing within them.

Footnotes:

[1] There is some truth to this: Practical Fishkeeping UK

[bewitching-elizabeth-olsen]

Press/Gallery: How Elizabeth Olsen Brought Marvel From Mainstream to Prestige

“The thing I love about being an actor is to fully work with someone and try so hard to be at every level with them, chasing whatever it is you need or want from them.”

  GALLERY LINKS

Studio Photoshoots > 2021 > Session 008 Magazine Scans > 2021 > Backstage (August 19)

Backstage: Elizabeth Olsen grins widely over video chat when recalling many such moments on set with her co-stars. Yet, she can’t bring herself to divorce such a lofty vision of film acting from the technical multitasking it requires. The camera sees all.

“But then you move your hair, and you’re in your brain, like: OK, remember that! Because I don’t want to edit myself out of a shot. I know some actors are like, ‘Continuity, shmontinuity!’ But the good thing about continuity is, if you remember it, you’re actually providing yourself with more options for the edit.”

That need to balance being both inside the scene and outside of it, fully living it and yet constantly visualizing it on a screen, feels particularly apt in light of Olsen’s most recent project, “WandaVision.”

The mysteries at the heart of the show grow with every episode, each fast-forwarding to a different decade: Could this 1950s, black-and-white, “filmed in front of a studio audience” newlyweds bit be a grief-stricken dream? Might this ’70s spoof be a powerful spell gone awry? Could this meta take on mockumentary comedies be proof that the multiverse is finally coming to the Marvel Cinematic Universe?

The series’ structure, which branches out to include government agents intent on finding out why Westview has seemingly disappeared, calls for the entire cast to play with a mix of genres, balancing a shape-shifting tone that culminates in an epic, MCU-style conclusion. What’s key—and why the show struck a chord with audiences during its nine-episode run—is the miniseries’ commitment to grounding its initial kooky setups and its later special effects-driven spectacle in heartbreaking emotional truths. It’s no small feat, though it’s one that can often be taken for granted.

“I was thinking how hard it would have been to have shot the first ‘Lord of the Rings,’ ” Olsen muses. “Like, you’re putting all these actors [into the frame] later and at all these different levels. All the eyelines are completely unnatural. And yet the performances are fantastic! And technically, they are so hard. People forget sometimes that these things are really technically hard to shoot. And if you are moved by their performance, that took a lot of multitasking.”

As someone who has learned plenty about harnesses, wirework, fight choreography, and green screens (she’s starred in four Marvel movies, including the box office megahit “Avengers: Endgame,” after all), Olsen knows how hard it can be to wrap one’s brain around the work needed to pull off those big, splashy scenes.

“​​If you think about it, it’s, like, the biggest stakes in the entire world—every time. And that feels silly to act over and over again, especially when people are in silly costumes and the love of your life is purple and sparkly, and every time you kiss them, you have to worry about getting it on your hands. Those things are ridiculous. You feel ridiculous. So there is a part of your brain that has to shovel that away and just look into someone’s eyeballs—and sometimes, they don’t even have eyeballs!”

The ability to spend so much time with Wanda, albeit in the guise of sitcom parodies, was a welcome opportunity for Olsen. Not only did it allow the actor to really wrestle with the traumatic backstory that has long defined the character in the MCU, but having the chance to calibrate a performance that functions on so many different levels was a thrilling challenge.

“It was such an amazing work experience,” she says. “Kathryn [Hahn] uses the word ‘profound’—which is so sweet, because it is Marvel, and people, you know, don’t think of those experiences as profound when they watch them. But it really was such a special crew that [director] Matt Shakman and [creator] Jac Schaeffer created. It was a really healthy working environment.”

Related‘WandaVision’ Star Kathryn Hahn’s Secret to Building a Scene-Stealing Performance ‘WandaVision’ Star Kathryn Hahn’s Secret to Building a Scene-Stealing Performance Considering that the miniseries spans several sitcom iterations, various layers of televisual reality, and a number of character reveals that needed to feel truthful and impactful in equal measure, Shakman’s decision to work closely with his actors ahead of shooting was key.

“We truly had a gorgeous amount of time together before we started filming,” Olsen remembers. “Our goal was—which is controversial in TV land—that if you wanted to change [anything], like dialogue in a scene, you had to give those notes a week before we even got there. Because sometimes you get to set, and someone had a brilliant idea while they were sleeping, and you’re like, ‘We don’t have an hour to talk about this. We have seven pages to shoot.’ And so, we were all on the same page with one another, knowing what we were shooting ahead of time.

“Matt just treated us like a troupe of actors who were about to do some regional theater shit,” she adds with a smile.

That spirit of camaraderie was, not coincidentally, at the heart of Olsen’s breakout project, Sean Durkin’s 2011 indie sensation “Martha Marcy May Marlene.” As an introduction to the process of filmmaking to a young stage-trained actor, Durkin’s quietly devastating drama was a dream—and an invaluable learning opportunity.

“It was truly just a bunch of people who loved the script, who just were doing the work. I didn’t understand lenses, so I just did the same thing all the time. I never knew if the camera would be on me or not. There was just so much purity in that experience, and you only have that once.”

The film announced Olsen as a talent to watch: a keen-eyed performer capable of deploying a stilted physicality and clipped delivery, which she used to conjure up a wounded girl learning how to shake off her time spent in a cult in upstate New York. But Olsen admits that it took her a while to figure out how to navigate her career choices afterward. In the years following “Martha,” she felt compelled to try on everything: a horror flick here, a high-profile remake there, a period piece here, an action movie there. It wasn’t until she starred in neo-Western thriller “Wind River” (alongside fellow Marvel regular Jeremy Renner) and the dark comedy “Ingrid Goes West” (opposite a deliciously deranged Aubrey Plaza) that Olsen found her groove.

“It was at that point, when I was five years into working, where I was like, Ah, I know how I want it. I know what I need from these people—from who’s involved, from producers, from directors, from the character, from the script—in order to trust that it’s going to be a fruitful experience.”

As Olsen looks back on her first decade as a working actor, she points out how far removed she is from that young girl who broke out in “Martha Marcy May Marlene.”

“I feel like a totally different person. I don’t know if everyone who’s in their early 30s feels like their early 20s self is a totally different human. But when I think about that version of myself, it feels like a long time ago; there’s a lot learned in a decade.”

Those early years were marked by a self-effacing humility that often led Olsen to defer to others when it came to key decisions about the characters she was playing. But she now feels emboldened to not only stand up for herself and her choices but for others on her sets as well.

“[Facebook Watch series] ‘Sorry for Your Loss’ I got to produce, and I really found my voice in a collaborative leadership way. And with ‘WandaVision,’ Paul [Bettany] and I really took on that feeling, as well—especially since we were introducing new characters to Marvel and wanted [those actors] to feel protected and helped,” she says. “They could ask questions and make sure they felt like they had all the things they needed because sometimes you don’t even know what you need to ask.”

It’s a lesson she learned working with filmmaker Marc Abraham on the Hank Williams biopic “I Saw the Light,” and she’s carried it with her ever since. “I really want it to feel like we’re all in this together, as a team,” Olsen says. “That was part of ‘Sorry for Your Loss’ and it was part of ‘WandaVision,’ and I hope to continue that kind of energy because those have been some of the healthiest work experiences I’ve had.”

If Olsen sounds particularly zealous about the importance of a comfortable, working set, it is because she’s well aware that therein lies an integral part of the work and the process. As an actor, she wants to feel protected and nurtured by those around her, whether she’s reacting to a telling, quiet line of dialogue about grief or donning her iconic Scarlet Witch outfit during a magic-filled mid-air action sequence.

“Sometimes you’re going to be foolish, you know? And [you need to] feel brave to be foolish. Sometimes people feel embarrassed on set and snap. But if you’re in a place where people feel like they’re allowed to be an idiot,” she says, “you’re going to feel better about being an idiot.”

This story originally appeared in the Aug. 19 issue of Backstage Magazine. Subscribe here.

Press/Gallery: How Elizabeth Olsen Brought Marvel From Mainstream to Prestige was originally published on Elizabeth Olsen Source • Your source for everything Elizabeth Olsen

[wisterialagoon]

For you, I'll Stay : Pt.2

Dabi is one of the top soldiers of the League of Villains. He does the dirty work and feels the stain of crime on his hands. You're an Assistant Inspector at the Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency, resigned to records-keeping instead of doing actual fieldwork. What happens when these two become intertwined in the most prominent political event that changed the era of 1990's Tokyo Japan?

Warnings: Violence (a girl gets beat up in this chapter), gangs, eventual smut(not in this chapter tho)

Btw, in this dabi doesn't have any scars on his face!

Azabu Gardens,

Moto-Azabu 3-7-5 Minato-ku, Tokyo 106-0046.

January 9, 1990, Tuesday.

The League

20:00 hours

The first rays of the morning began to creep into the premises of their mansion, illuminating the entirety of their eight-hectare complex. The lawn had been freshly mowed and the foyer had been polished to sparkling clean, as per the orders of their leader. It had been his first order of business during the general assembly with the entire brotherhood.

The soldiers were understandably taken aback at hearing him rattle off a list of things to do which were, in essence, house chores. From checking the car engines, laundering their clothes, and stocking up on groceries, the loyal members followed everything down to the very last detail, albeit with a little curiosity as to why they were doing this when they were supposed to be preparing for a major operation set later in the day.

Meanwhile the boss carried out everything as if it was business as usual. They had convened at their usual 10:00 am meeting at the solarium, exchanging data and intel regarding any updates on their framework's current phase. After making sure that everything was in order–from the time it would take to execute the operation to the time it would take for the police to arrive on scene, they called it a day and retired to their own rooms.

That was this morning.

Preparations were over and it was almost nearing midnight–time to start the show.

Everyone had gotten dressed in the same all-black attire, distinguished only by the formality of their suit and quality of the fabric. The leader had worn a two-piece suit, while the soldiers only had lightweight turtlenecks to pair with their slacks.

The cars were ready by the driveway, it's trunks loaded with a series of guns, masks and the deactivate system; and everyone had lined up at the foyer, at the foot of the grand staircase, awaiting the greeting and instructions of their boss.

"Good evening gentlemen," his voice didn't have that booming quality that most of his leaders had, but the clarity of his diction and richness of his timbre proved sufficient to command everyone's attention. He didn't need any of the pomp or fanfare that was usually associated with the league–his presence alone was enough.

There weren't many of them tonight, it was a small operation that needed only seven of their best men; even so, his under-boss, and the rest of his soldiers were waiting with bated breath at what he was about to say.

Finally standing by the newel post, he slowly slips on his leather gloves and begins to address their small unit.

"A rundown Kurogiri," he instructs his under-boss, with not so much as a glance spared his way.

"Today we initiate phase 2.1 of our framework," Kurogiri steps out of the line and proceeds to hand out a file on their operation and walkie-talkies to the soldiers. "Team A, Touya and Atsuhiro, will take care of the decoy. Team B, Himiko and Jin, will secure the target. Team C, Magne and Spinner, will deactivate the sensors and tip the police," he finishes, working his way back to his position beside their leader.

Tomura looks at him with a quirked eyebrow, expectant.

Kurogiri clears his throat. "Phase 2.2 of the framework will begin immediately after."

6 Chome-10-1 Roppongi, Minato City, Tokyo 106-6108, Japan.

The Takahashi Residence.

21:30 hrs.

As soon as Kurogiri parked the car in an empty lot two blocks from the site, he turned on their linked communication system and radioed to their leader that they were ready.

"Masks and Positions," Tomura instructed."Remember, one slip up will cost the entire operation."

Save for the thrumming of the engine, their leaders voice was the only thing that had cut through the nights silence.

"Yep, Tomura everyone is positioned," Kurogiri confirms, and signals to Team A that they were good to go.

As soon as they were given the signal, Touya and Atsuhiro make their way to the site, with the latter updating Tomura about their position. "Currently making my way into the Takahashi Residence along with Touya."

As they stopped to confirm that it was indeed the residence of the Minister of National Defence, their leader warns, "Keep an eye out for the security Atsuhiro," both soldiers nod their assent, replying that they located a blind spot in the houses security system and private guards.

After signalling Team B to follow, Kurogiri had set up operations control with Magne and Spinner. Just as they had gotten access into the house's security system, Tomura radios, "Kurogiri, do you copy?"

"Yes, I copy," the under-boss replies, holding the walkie-talkie in one hand and the other sifting through the nights operation file.

"Do you have a visual on the Minister and his wife?" Tomura  asks.

"Yes," he turns around to look at Magne and Spinners surveillance feed, which was focused on the master bedroom.

"They're currently separated from the decoy."

"Good." Tomura  affirms. "Magne, when Atsuhiro, Touya, Jin and Himiko are in place you'll override the security system, understand?"

"Understood!" the soldier nods while simultaneously preparing all the codes needed to deactivate the system.

"Once Touya and Atsuhiro take care of the decoy, that's when Himiko and Jin will go and search for the target," Tomura reminds, looking over at his copy of the operation file as well.

"Spinner, monitor all frequencies from a two-kilometre radius of the site. If anyone reports anything before we do then I want to hear it. If anyone is even in the middle of dialling a government or police number, I want to be the first to know, understood?"

"Gotcha boss," Spinner confirms. "The hacking system is ready to go, all lines within a two-kilometre radius is tapped as well."

21:42 hours.

After a preliminary entry into the estate, the four soldiers settle in their own entry points and radio back. "Spinner, we're in place, you can drop the security."

"Alright. You have a little over thirty minutes before the back-up security kicks in," the enthusiastic man programmes a few codes and counts backwards, "it's down in...5, 4, 3, 2, 1."

"Go." A deep voice follows, alerting the four soldiers on-site.

For a second, Team A and B thought it has been their leader who had addressed them, but immediately broke out into grins when the voice followed with, "Be careful in there guys."

''Don't worry, Kurogiri." Jin  assures, giving Himiko, Atsuhiro and Touya a thumbs up. "We've got this"

The four soldiers discreetly jump over the deactivated sensors and immediately break into action, disarming the guards and eventually knocking them unconscious by landing considerably hard blows to their neck, causing their head to snap to the side.

After slipping past the unconscious guards, Atsuhiro and Touya pry open one of the windows, climbing in quietly while Himiko and Jin wait outside.

Team A immediately proceeds to the target's room, bolting the maid's quarters from the outside after unfortunately having to knock her out as well.

The two check their copy of the house's floor plan, with Touya sending a glance to Atsuhiro before slowly opening the door into one of the mansion's bedrooms.

In the room sat 18-year old Takahashi Yua. with her back facing Atsuhiro and Touya slowly the boys made their way to her and in mere seconds Atsuhiro had his hands over Yua's mouth and held her in place.

The shocked girl could do nothing but try to thrash around and scream for help but Touya tied her hands and gagged her.

Touya then raised a fist, about to hit the girl before he was quickly stopped by Atsuhiro "Dabi, not here, let's take it outside. "

Nodding in agreement, Touya helped Atsuhiro drag the silently sobbing girl back outside from where they came from, leading to the back of the house and into the garage.

Seeing Touya and Atsuhiro leave with Yua allowed Himiko and Jin to make their way inside and find their operations primary objective, leaving Team A to deal with the girl.

"Compress, take off the gag," Touya instructed, to which Atsuhiro nodded and quickly removed the bundle of cloth that had been choking the girl.

As soon as it had been done, Touya struck her across the cheek with a force that pushed her backwards. It was a strong enough blow to leave an angry bruise but not enough to knock her out completely.

After taking stock of her figure-from her laboured breathing to her split lower lip, he delivers a few more punches to her torso and a last strike across her face. All the while, Atsuhiro hands had snaked around her arms. keeping her in place.

Finally, Touya pulled out a handkerchief that had been previously doused in ether.

He pressed it firmly to her mouth and nose. forcing her to inhale the substance which quickly knocked her out.

"Hey, you guys done in here?" Himiko skipped into the parking lot, "We've got the stuff."

"Yeah," Touya pockets the handkerchief and watches as Yua unceremoniously slumps to the floor with a dull thud.

"We're done." he drags her body to the main entrance of the parking lot, ensuring that she would be the first thing to be seen by anyone coming through the garage's main door.

"You're too brutish Touya." Atsuhiro grimaces at the bruised girl crumpled in the corner.

"Whatever, someone make the signal, we're done here." Touya gets up to leave.

6 Chome-10-1 Roppongi, Minato City, Tokyo 106-6108, Japan.

The Takahashi Residence.

23:00 hrs.

"Magne. I got a call from the other guys." their leader radios from where he was keeping sentinel of the entire operation.

"They're all clear, make the call."

"Got it boss, making the call now."

Magne dials the number on a burner phone expecting the line to ring a couple of times before anyone answers, as expected, on the fifth ring, a woman's voice breaks through the radio silence.

"SMPA, what is your concern?" her voice was clear. but slightly unstable. when she doesn't give her a reply, she repeats her question, louder this time.

"Kidnapping" she says, evenly distributing the stress on each syllable to feign monotony. "23:00, 6 Chome-10-1 Roppongi, Minato City, Tokyo 106-6108, Japan. Takahashi Yua." Magne states calmly, while she hears rapid scribbling on the other end.

Here come the textbook reactions she thinks to herself, amused.

"who is this? Where is your intel from?" she asks, an undertone of panic lacing her voice. "Hello?" she follows up when Magne

doesn't reply—to which she settles for perching the receiver directly over his mouth to make sure it picks up her heavy breathing.

Magne waited a few moments before finally hanging up.

She radios to their leader. "Alright, the phone call is done the officer will be calling for backup soon."

After checking his watch, Tomura smirks at their record. "Keigo, you ready to receive that request for backup?" Tomura asks through his walkie-talkie.

"Yeah, on patrol near the area so I should be getting that on my frequency." he affirms, shifting to a more comfortable position on the drivers seat he had convinced his partner in advance to take a leave for their shift that night, so as to ensure that he would be able to carry out his part in the operation without any hiccups.

"I'll be first on the scene when the request for backup is made."

6 Chome-10-1 Roppongi, Minato City, Tokyo 106-6108, Japan.

The Takahashi Residence.

2:40 hours.

"Don't worry Ma'am, we'll find out who did this to your

daughter." Keigo assured the Ministers wife, pure concern flawlessly depicted in his facial expression. "We've done a preliminary search of the crime scene, we'll come back with updates as soon as we find anything conclusive."

"You had better catch that criminal, I want him in jail, my daughter is lying unconscious in a hospital!" she demands, hands coming up to cover her face as her body was enveloped in a series of sobs.

Keigo gave a curt nod and comforting pat to the woman's shoulder before turning around and getting back into his car to leave.

As he pulled out of the driveway, he immediately drove to a remote alley in the outskirts of the district, once he was assured that his location wouldn't be found, he made a call.

"Hello? Keigo?" their leader answered. ''What's your status?"

"Shigaraki, I just got back from the crime scene." he says, turning the police radio down and killing the car's engine.

"And?" their leader asks, undoubtedly expectant of his answer.

Keigo knew that his cover was especially pivotal for that night's operation—and that Tomura had made it clear with no uncertain terms that the success of this phase relied on his ability to herd the police where they wanted them to.

"The family doesn't suspect a thing They believe it was an attempted kidnapping" he says, waiting for their leader's response.

After a beat, their leader simply hums in affirmation and hangs up, It wasn't much—he knew that Tomura had always been a man of few words, but he also knew that he always meant whatever he said, with that in mind, he restarted the car and proceeded to drive back to their residence.

Azabu Gardens,

Moto-Azabu 3-7-5 Minato-ku, Tokyo 106-0046.

January 9, 1990, Tuesday.

The League

03:00 hours.

He had stopped at the driveway, feeling no need to actually park his car since he was sure he'd be back at the station soon enough. Besides, he needed to speak with their leader immediately.

He had successfully crossed the foyer and was about to go up

the stairs when a familiar voice calls out to him "Keigoo, you're back!" The youngest member of their group, Himiko, approaches him, grinning.

"How'd it go?"

"Went well." he shrugs off his coat, and hangs his police hat over the coat stand. "Only one problem though, can you go get Shigaraki? We need to have a group meeting"

After a few minutes, everyone who had worked on the operation had gathered at their usual dining hall, with each finding their own seat at the round table.

"Everything went well with the family." After everyone had settled in, Keigo began immediately, fingers interlaced over the single file folder resting in front of him.

"But one of my subordinates is a little too close for comfort." Keigo states, instantly gaining the others' attention.

"What's his name?" Shigaraki questioned.

"Actually, it's a woman." he opens the folder, and pulls out a headshot photo.

"Her name is Miyasaki Y/N, she's the Assistant Inspector."

"A woman cop?" Touya reached for the photo then let out a snort at the subtle smile and short haircut she sported.

"So there's no problem then?" he chuckled, throwing the photo across the table for the others to see, clearly uninterested.

"Shut up Touya, you could probably get your ass kicked by this girl." Himiko quipped, earning a sharp glare from the other boy.

"I swear to god you psycho bitch, I'm gonna—" he shifts in his seat, calling out the girl, knowing full well that the mean name would provoke her.

Just as he was about to continue to prove that no girl could possibly kick his ass, he's thoroughly cut off.

"stop bickering this is serious." Keigo interrupted. "Girl cop or not, she's a threat." he declares.

He looks at them one by one and rests a brief glance at Tomura, their leader nods at him to continue. Keigo sighs, aware that he has to set the context for the rest of the group.

He had been given this role by Tomura directly so not everyone knew just what he was doing at the station or just how important his role was in their whole framework.

"she wasn't supposed to be the one who would get the police tip."

Keigo expels a deep breath, screwing his eyes shut.

"It was supposed to be her direct senior, the only other female Inspector in the agency, she usually does overtime with Miyasaki, but she changed her schedule tonight. I don't know why." again, Keigo sighs. This time, he's slouched on the dining chair, gently massaging the bridge of his nose.

The silence that follows only aggravated his frustration with himself.

He had been counting on Usagiyama Rumi, the agency's female Inspector, who he had been assigned to follow for the past few weeks.

She had the same routine ever since he "started" at the agency—time in at 7:00 am, attend meetings and facilitate cold opens throughout the day, follow-up on interrogations or meet victim's relatives and finally, time-out at midnight.

He wasn't counting on this assistant Inspector, she was an outlier, he didn't pay much attention to her other than the times that they'd cross paths at the cafeteria or when they'd get things from their adjacent locker units. He was working in the patrol and public safety unit, she was busy with comms and records-keeping.

Nonetheless, he did know everyone's business in the agency—even if he wasn't exactly tailing each and every one of them.

He knows the case assignments, he knows who had called in late and he knows why and he even knows how their chief liked his coffee down to the number of espresso shots and percentage of sugar.

"This girl is relentless." He presses on. "I've observed her at the agency—she dedicates herself to everything she does, it's borderline obsessive, even if it is something small and unimportant" he adds the latter as an afterthought, suddenly aware of all those times she stayed overtime.

"I don't like the idea of someone like that sniffing around where we don't want them to."

On his own, he just concluded that she did overtime because she wanted to kiss ass—especially given the kind of rumours going on about her, but it only dawned on him now that perhaps she was more dedicated to the job than others painted her out to be.

"Keigo's right." Kurogiri chimed in. "We should do something about her."

Silence fell for a beat, until it stretched on for a few minutes.

Everyone had exchanged glances, they knew that after Kurogiri, their leader had to have the final say.

"I agree," finally Tomura declares.

He stands up and proceeds to stand by the French window, parting open the satin drapes.

"It's time for modifications before starting phase 2.2."

"Find out why Usagiyama broke her routine. Enlist the others' help on this if you need more hands on comms." Tomura spares a glance at Magne and Spinner, at which the two people reply with nods.

"As for this new player..." their leader trails off, returning back to look at their garden and the approaching dawn.

Expectant, Keigo awaits his next orders. "I want you to keep an eye on her at the station. make sure she stays out of the way, try and befriend her if anything, I need you to throw her off our scent, okay?"

"Got it." the undercover member nods, rising from his seat.

The others follow suit, but Tomura gives follow-up instructions that stops them where they stood.

"Kurogiri, take over my 10:00 today." he announces, immediately piquing everyone's interest "Take Himiko and Jin, you'll need the extra eyes for surveillance."

After the three echo their assent, Tomura clears them, including Keigo, to leave, He adds a few reminders for Magne and Spinner to follow-up on their contracts with their current suppliers, experts and other assets before finally dismissing the two of them as well as Atsuhiro.

singled out, Touya stands by the doorway, intrigued.

"Dabi," he calls Touya by his alias, turning around to face him he then closes the distance between the two of them within five quick strides.

"I want you to pay a visit to that poor girl, make sure she's on bed rest," his voice strong and amplified by the domed ceiling and marble flooring. Touya nods. "I'll see which hospital admitted her," and moves to leave the room.

Not missing a beat. Tomura places a hand over his shoulder just as he was in the process of doing an about-turn.

"I wasn't referring to Miss. Yua.

[tl-notes]

Kobayashi’s Maid Dragon S2 Episode 3 Notes

Sparrows! Specifically the Eurasian tree sparrow, known in Japan as the suzume. You can just about see them all over Japan, all year long—but that doesn’t mean they aren’t a season word!

Depending on their depiction, they can be used as a season word for most times of the year, but a major one is “late spring,” as that’s when they’re out and about finding food for their baby birds. You can also see in the art they look a little floofy, indicative of the winter coat they haven’t fully shed yet; suzume in summer have a more sleek look. Here’s a shot of them from late summer last season:

And from closer to winter here↓. Quite fluffy.

As a quick refresher, 季語 kigo, or season words, are words/phrases/concepts used to give a sense of season to a haiku (or other poem/work of art), which is what part of what differentiates them from a senryuu. They were used pretty frequently in a lot of episodes last season, but a bit less so this time so far.

Where Lucoa and Ilulu are talking about a “right” here, the Japanese word is 資格 shikaku. While this usage is similar to “right” in English, the connotation is a little different as the word actually means more “qualification.” 

Whereas a “right” is generally something you have innately in some sense (e.g. if you make art you automatically have copyright over it, you have human rights just for being human, etc.), a shikaku is something you earn (e.g. if you study and take a test for certification program and pass, you’re rewarded with a shikaku.)

Ilulu’s response to the question here is 

そういうのは違う。小林がくれたあの言葉はなかったことにはできないから。

One way in which this differs from the English is that she’s not saying it would be right or wrong, but rather not the solution she’s looking for—because it would also mean undoing the words Kobayashi gave her, and that is something she doesn’t want to do, no matter what.

In contrast the English feels more like she thinks it would be wrong to do that, and even if she did it wouldn’t let her escape what Kobayashi said to her. (That would make more sense if Kobayashi had called her out on being evil, but that’s not really what went down.) An alternative wording might be something like:

“That wouldn’t solve anything. Besides, I don’t want to erase what Kobayashi gave me.”

This line is: 小林さんのようにはいかないなー

This is perhaps just my interpretation, but the English here sounds like Lucoa once convinced/helped Kobayashi in some fashion previously, is trying it again with Ilulu, but failing this time. (I don’t that’s ever happened though.)

In contrast, I think the Japanese is saying that Lucoa is trying to be like Kobayashi (e.g. when helping alleviate/solve Tohru’s various worries), and it’s not really working for her. I.e. “It’s not working like when Miss Kobayashi does it.” 

Ilulu’s line about “I don’t want to ask Kobayashi about it because she’d probably solve it too easily" seems to support that reading; the dragons know Kobayashi as worries-solver.

The English here has Lucoa saying she’ll go talk to Kanna/Saikawa, and casually telling Ilulu to wait in the bathroom. But Lucoa doesn’t actually talk to the kids, and even if she was planning to, why would Ilulu waiting in the toilet do anything?

The answer is that Lucoa is actually telling Ilulu to talk (to an unspecified subject, assumed to be Saikawa, since she’s a human and thus someone Ilulu feels guilty about interacting with; Kanna she’s more fine with, as a dragon). And instead of “Go ahead and wait in the bathroom,” it’s more of a “Go wait in the bathroom and see what happens,” with the implication Lucoa is going to set something up. 

And she does!

“I won’t lie about X, but Y is a different story.” This seems to imply she will still lie about Y? That seems a bit odd to me, especially when she just lied about X (those feelings) to Kanna/Saikawa minutes ago. 

The Japanese says something a bit different though.

The core of the middle line here is 気持ちに嘘をつかない kimochi ni uso wo tsukanai. Because the に, the particle indicating “direction,” is attached unadorned to "feelings,” it is saying not “lying about X” but “lying to X.” This construction, to say one is lying to a feeling, is fairly common in Japanese media. It’s basically equivalent in English to lying to yourself about those feelings.

(for “lying about X” you’d change the に into a について or similar)

So basically she’s saying she won’t pretend, to herself at least, that she doesn’t want to play. But that’s a separate issue to whether she has, as she said before, the “right” to play after what she did. 

You could maybe put it sort of like this:

“I won’t lie to myself about my feelings anymore. But that doesn’t mean I can act on them after what I did.”

I feel extremely silly even pointing this out, but the beam here is 尿意 nyoui, which is the urge to pee, not necessarily actually needing to pee. Hence why she seems to stop needing to as soon as she gets to the bathroom and walks straight back to the living room with Ilulu after they talk.

“Be deceived” here is not 騙される damasareru, lit. “be deceived,” but 騙し討ちにあう damashi-uchi ni au, which is like being hit by a sneak attack, being stabbed in the back, etc. In a fairly literal sense in this case too, as they’re talking about actual combat.

I mostly bring it up because it feels like there is not much difference between “being deceived” and “being tricked,” despite those being portrayed as polar opposites (deceived by hostile dragons, tricked by kind Kobayashi), so it might have been wise to differentiate them more in the translation.

E.g. perhaps “She had to change to avoid a knife in the back.” (though dragons don’t use knives, so maybe a claw?)

Another pretty minor point, but the “doesn’t know right from wrong” is 分別のない funbetsu no nai, where funbetsu means not so much “knowing right from wrong,” but a more encompassing sense of discretion and maturity.

I mostly bring this one up because it struck as me awkward to say Ilulu explicitly shouldn’t know right from wrong, since that would be going backward to her be okay destroying the city again. Instead it’s more that she shouldn’t need to feel weighed down by what’s “correct” or what she “should” do. One possible alt example:

“So go back to being a kid, and worry more about what you want to do than ought to do.”

(Lucoa also changes from a narrative tone to a more conversational tone at the end, in conjunction with the visual shift away from the flashback, so swapping the “she” to “you” might be appropriate.)

Note how Kanna shuffles the cards here. Depending on where you’re from, this may seem like an odd way of doing it (unless you watched Yugioh maybe). A lot of places with majority English speakers tend to use the overhand shuffle or riffle shuffle, but in Japan (and many other Asian countries) the most common shuffle is the one on display here, known as the Hindu shuffle. 

~The More You Know~

The act of handing over a piece of candy like this has been used as imagery in other places in the show as well, though I’ll leave thinking about what it represents to you.

“Blanket” is futon, which is used to refer to both the “mattress” part and “blanket” part of a full futon, the traditional Japanese bedding (not the same thing as the sofa/couch mattress you might hear called a futon in some places).

I mostly mention because just “a blanket” kind of sounds like they’re going to leave them on the floor, but they’re actually going to get the equivalent of a guest mattress (+blanket) to put them to sleep in, as it’s late enough for this to turn into a sleepover.

Just as a bit of trivia, the word she uses for “onlooker” here is the same term as the “spectator faction.” In the manga Tohru interjects with “Aww, come on, why not Chaos faction instead?” 

Also as a side note to this whole bit about Kobayashi wearing a maid outfit; recall this scene from early in season one, where Tohru found an outfit Kobayashi had bought and stuffed deep in a closet:

Relevant! Anyway, back to the actual episode now:

If you felt like this exchange felt a little disjointed, especially given Tohru’s tone of voice: the idea is that Lucoa is saying Tohru really goes to extremes when it comes to matters relating to Kobayashi, which is implying that it seems excessive to call so many people over for a relatively mild issue (not that she necessarily minds though). Tohru’s response is a slightly defensive “yeah I know, but thanks for coming over anyway.” 

(They’re saying it in ways such that you have to read between the lines a bit though, so it may not come across as easily in a translation.)

The word for “cold” here is 水くさい mizu-kusai, basically meaning “watered down” (like beer etc.), and used frequently to refer to a person/actions/words that the speaker considers too reserved for the relationship they have with the other person.

So it’s similar to cold, but cold in the context of already warm relationship. If talking about a stranger or someone you don’t get along with normally, you shouldn’t use 水くさい; you can just say 冷たい tsumetai (lit. “cold”) or similar.

In this context you could probably have her say “No need to apologize, Kobayashi-san.”

Also I like how they swap around the honorifics (Miss, Lady, -san, -sama, etc.) based on the speaker (I think differentiating between dragons and native-Japanese-speaking humans?). I would say it works given the setting, but that’s just me.

The text there says “Money Street.” It’s probably obvious, but it’s based primarily on Monopoly, which is semi-popular in Japan (though not to the extent as say in the US). 

Just some trivia, but the “sales pitch” for the game in the Japanese market is more that it’s an educational game that teaches investing and negotiation skills. (The origin of the game in general being an educational tool about exploitation of tenants by landlords, so not quite the same thing.)

Japan also has Momotarou Dentetsu (”Momotetsu”), which is a video game series that’s been around since the NES and is broadly similar to Monopoly rules-wise.

I just want to point out, amid all the riches, the bag of potato chips and other junk food in the back there.

Mini-trivia: the cardboard boxes in the background there seem to be a mix of the Amazon logo and the Seino Transportation logo, a Japanese shipping company with a kangaroo logo.

You probably noticed it without me pointing it out, but I enjoyed the fact Elma got corn starch* all around her mouth from the daifuku and then immediately got told to go play with the kids while the adults are talking.

*It may seem like powdered sugar if you’re used to donut holes, but daifuku, like most Japanese sweets (wagashi) generally, is not heavily sugared and not even particularly sweet by the standard of most “sweets” (which is part of the appeal for many). The skin of the daifuku is powdered with corn starch or similar simply to make it less sticky.

Kobayashi’s “do that” here is やろー yarou, which can mean “let’s do X” (which is a construction often used to tell/suggest someone to do something, without really including yourself in the “us”). 

However in this case—especially given Kobayashi’s pronunciation and tone of voice—I think it’s actually a homophone of that, a form of 野郎 yarou, a word for “guy” with often negative connotations, like saying “son of a” or “asshole” etc. 

The idea, I think, being that his immediate agreement of “Oooh, right I didn’t think about you wearing it,” comes with a heavy implication of “yeah you’re right, you couldn’t pull off something cute like that,” so she’s replying with a (mostly good-natured) “oh you fucker.”

This giant 完 kan means “the end,” used like “fin” at the end of a story or game etc. It’s also frequently used in “fake end” jokes. E.g. a show about a sentient zombie might start with the main character getting hit by a truck and dying immediately. The end! ...Except not, and they wake up as a zombie.

So here, the original goal was “make a maid outfit for Kobayashi to wear.” Then Georgie convinces Kobayashi that anything is a maid outfit as long as you are a maid at heart, so really, she’s already wearing one! The end! ...Except not.

Here’s some extra, probably needless, context on this “annoying”: it uses the word 面倒くさい mendokusai, which is basically used to describe something as annoying, a pain, etc. When used to describe a person like this, one of the ways it can be taken is specifically that the person is really fussy about details that others wouldn’t really care about—which describes Kobayashi about maids pretty well. 

So just for clarity, it’s not necessarily “I became an annoying person who is a maid otaku,” and can be more of a “within the context of my maid otaku-ness I became annoying.” Just to kind of shed some light on the extent of her self-deprecation here.

The word Kobayashi uses for “helping with the housework” is 家事手伝い kaji-tetsudai, which is a noun* that means “a housework helper”... here, basically a more bland way for a native Japanese speaker to say maid. 

Hence why Tohru reacts with “Oh, don’t call me that, call me a maid!”; Kobayashi went as far as to acknowledge her clothes as a maid outfit, but not quite as far as calling her maid outright. That’s our “annoying maid otaku” doing her thing. 

*It can also be verbed.

These neighborhood notices, 回覧板 kairan-ban, ~lit. circular notice, are a method used by local governing organizations to distribute information or forms etc. For example, about an upcoming neighborhood event to pick up litter.

The general idea is that one person gets the notice, reads it, signs it, then goes and passes it to the next household in line. It saves paper versus sending everyone a thing in the mail, encourages interaction between neighbors, and is more likely to be read than a flyer/email, though some people consider them a pain and they generally feel a little dated.

The phrase for “piercing noise” is  劈く金切り音, tsunzaku kanakiri-on, ~lit. “ear-piercing sound of tearing metal.”* 

“Was it that loud?” in the Japanese is a little different, そんな音してた?, meaning “was it making a sound like that?” 

I’m mostly just bringing it up to say that the “Sasakibe’s cooking isn’t just loud, the sounds don’t even make sense” gag is alive and well this season.

*The “sound of tearing metal” phrase can also used idiomatically for some types of high pitched sounds, but I imagine it was chosen very deliberately here.

It’s probably obvious, but this is a reference to the music video of the OP for season one. You can see it on the official channel for the band, fhána, here.

The season two music video is here, and it seems to have decent English subtitles for the lyrics if you’re curious what they are.

The adjective here is ニヒル nihiru, an abbreviation of nihilistic. It can be used as actually “nihilistic” like in English, but it can also be used more colloquially to describe a person with dark vibes. It can almost be a compliment!

“Sleeping” here is 惰眠をむさぼる damin wo musaboru. Damin is not just sleep, but “worthless” sleep—not like a nap because you’re tired. Musaboru is a verb for ~gorging upon on something (often metaphorically, not just food).

The two words are somewhat frequently used together for, basically, lying around the house doing nothing all day. And not in a particularly flattering way, so it’s pretty funny for her to just be like “yeah I do that as a hobby I guess.” 

It doesn’t mean the same thing, but it’d be like saying your hobby is loitering. Maybe could have translated as like “Hobbies? Vegetating.” or “Procrastinating?” or something, though I don’t know if those would have the right impact...

Kanna’s word for “idol” here is アイドル aidoru, i.e. idol in the pop culture sense.

Tohru’s word is 偶像 guuzou, or idol in the religious sense.

(Tohru swaps to the pop culture “idol” when she starts talking about Kobayashi though.)

Kanna’s “lost it” it here is 大変 taihen, a pretty common, almost generic word used as an intensifier (greatly, immensely, seriously, terribly, really, etc.) in both positive and negative ways. E.g. “thanks, you really saved me!” or “that was extremely rude.”

When used alone, like here, it usually implies something bad has happened, like something has befallen Tohru and/or she’s in some sort of trouble. Hence why Kobayashi immediately rushes home worried and bursts through the door like this—and loses her tension when she sees Tohru is fine, just... extreme(ly annoying to Kanna and Ilulu).

You could maybe say e.g. “Something’s wrong with Tohru!” to keep that double meaning open.

(”Lost it!” also makes sense for Kobayashi to be worried about, but the type of worry is somewhat different in that case; “oh god what is she going to do” vs. “oh god what happened to her.”)

The “lick” here is べろ bero, an onomatopoeia for licking that’s also used as slang for "tongue” (noun).

A bero chuu, as in the chorus here, is slang for a French kiss/deep kiss/tongue kiss.

~The More You Know~

The text here says “If your total assets are above one billion, proceed towards goal.” 

Only billionaires can win...

Here is 私のものはカンナのもの, lit. “What’s mine is Kanna’s!”

This line is a reference to a catchphrase of the bully/antagonist in Doraemon, Gian: “What’s yours is mine, and what’s mine is mine.” 

His line, and character, is so well known it’s spawned the term “Gianism” to represent that sort of self-centered philosophy: everything is rightfully mine to take, even if you think you lay some claim over it.

It’s interesting that the inversion of Gianism, i.e. “what’s mine is yours,” is the only way Kanna and Saikawa are able to overcome the rules, beat the billionaire, and win the game.

Solidarity forever.

[siriuslyobsessedwith]

Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger: Nightmares

They are about three months into dating, still in the early stages of testing each other’s boundaries and asking guiding questions when Hermione sleeps over at Draco’s apartment for the first time

Stumbling through the door after a casual night out, their hands are on each other in a millisecond: Draco threads his fingers through her curls while she grins into his lips; Hermione’s hands slide up his neck and her legs straddle his waist and they tumble through the apartment and into his bedroom and the night progresses

Neither of them think to mention their nightmares before they fall asleep tangled into each other. Burgeoning love has a way of doing that to people, of turning normally careful, disciplined individuals soft with happiness and safety.

But the nightmares have come for both of them for years. Draco’s began the summer after 5th year when his father was in Azkaban and Voldemort set up his court in his home. For the first time in his life, he felt helpless, terrified, and, above all, alone. His father was gone and he felt the responsibility of protecting his mother in every waking moment. At night, he failed over and over and over again.

Now, however, his nightmares are of him failing everyone he loves and having to watch them die. But they are also of his very real failures, of watching his now-girlfriend scream and contort under his aunt’s curse, of watching his mother be punished for his inability to kill.

Hermione’s nightmares start the same time. She dreams of the curse she was struck with in the Department of Mysteries, of the cruel twist of the Death Eater’s wand as he sent the bright light toward her. As the danger becomes more imminent, her nightmares change to watching herself make a mistake that costs her friends their lives. She, too, lives with a constant burden of saving everyone. At night, she watches everyone die, and then wakes screaming as she too is punished for her failure.

After Malfoy Manor and the Battle of Hogwarts, however, her nightmares change. They are less visual, more visceral. She feels Greyback’s breath down the back of her neck, the lightning strike of each Crucio. She can hear the screams of Mrs. Weasley over Fred’s body and the whimpers of Lavender Brown in the Great Hall. She is surrounded by horror through all her senses but sight. Through it all, she can see nothing. She is helpless, lost, and in the dark.

They both wake up from nightmares differently. Draco convulses as the green light inevitably jets towards him or his mother or his father and his eyes snap open, and for a moment he is paralyzed with horror. His breath come in frantic puffs and his hands clench into fists. He lays stiff, eyes wide and staring, his mind willing his body to respond. But for a moment, he is trapped, unable to do anything but try to breath.

Hermione wakes up screaming every time. She bolts upright and her cheeks are crying and she has to hold herself to calm down, calm down, calm down. After the war, she took to putting silencing charms on her room when she was staying with the Weasley’s. The first night she forgot was the first day she started looking for her own apartment. The pity and pain in everyone’s eyes the next morning was worse for her than any nightmare.

Even though they are both nestled into the other, safe and happy and hopeful for the first time in a while, their nightmares still find them. Hermione wakes first, screaming and stuffing the sheets into her mouth in an attempt to muffle her cries. She buries her head into her knees and shakes and sobs as silently as she can. She didn’t want him to think she was so broken anymore. And she can’t possibly see the same pity in his eyes. That would break her forever.

Draco is an incredibly light sleeper, so he is slammed out of watching her scream at his home to watch her sob in his bed. For a moment he is still paralyzed, at once trying to calm himself down and trying to make himself move. He’s furious at himself for being so weak and so trapped that he can’t comfort her. For a solid minute he is trapped and just has to watch her sob and heave and tremble and god he swears it’s worse than any nightmare.

When his body lets him move again, he reaches out for her, threading his hand around her back and pulling her to him. She jumps, turning wide eyes to him that seem to search for something. He holds her gaze, and they communicate silently for a bit. Sometimes words don’t work.

I hear you, he thinks to her. I’m here and I don’t want you to be alone.

I’m sorry, she thinks to him. I’m sorry you have to see me like this and I’m sorry I’m too lost in my nightmare to help you with yours. 

I have nightmares too, they both think. We are both so broken, it’s almost funny.

Is their shared suffering beautiful? Maybe it’s not, but understanding without pity is something neither of them had every truly hoped for before this. They say a million important things just with their eyes, and then, in silent agreement, Hermione nestles herself into Draco and they fall into an uneasy but nonetheless comforting sleep. Hermione, lulled by the sound of Draco’s heart while he counts her breaths and watches her face, gradually dips into sleep.

They don’t mention the unspeakable. That their nightmares are opposite and the same. That he dreams of doing nothing while she suffers, and she dreams of the terrifying, impossible pain and the memory of being utterly helpless.

When Hermione wakes up to the sound of the coffee maker, she startles a bit, realizing that she isn’t in her own flat. And then she remembers last night. The spot in the bed next to her is cold, and she bunches the covers up over her chest as she shivers. 

She tiptoes out of bed, rustling through his drawers to find a t-shirt of his to wear, and attempts to wrangle her sleep-ruined hairdo from the night before into something kind of ok. When she tiptoes out of the room, she imagines she is leaving the nightmares behind. She catches him in the kitchen, humming to himself as he makes coffee just the way she likes it, and she smiles at him because this man, without the burdens of the world, is all hers. 

And then she remembers. And she’s guilty and angry and sad and worried. He heard that scream, watched her heave and shake and try to remember it’s over, it’s over, it’s not real. There’s no way he will look at her the same. The acceptance of last night was temporary, a necessity of two sleep-deprived war survivors.

“Granger, don’t you know it’s rude to stare? And a bit creepy, if I’m being honest.”

She’s startled out of her thoughts by a steaming cup of coffee and cream and she looks up and his eyes are full of understanding. Not pity. Understanding and promise. For a moment she thinks they are just not going to talk about it (and if she’s completely honest, she could live with that), but he proves her wrong, just as he has so many times before. 

“Nightmares, huh,?” he quips, eyes boring in to her without apology. “Every night?”

“Yes,” she whispers. 

“Always the same?”

“Yes. You too?”

“Yes. Do you--,” he pauses, hand worrying the back of his neck. “Do you want to...talk about it?” His eyes are hesitant, as though there is an invisible line he knows he can’t cross. 

“Not really,” she murmurs. “Do you?”

“No.”

They pause in silence for a moment. He’s thinking of how he can possibly comfort her if she doesn’t want to talk and then condemning himself for thinking she would ever want to talk to him about it. She’s imagining all the things he’s thinking, that she blames him or that she hates him or that she’ll never forgive him. 

They’ve never broached the subject of that night. He’s told her of everything he did to protect his family and stay alive, and she’s told him about the months on the run, of the months without Ron. But they’ve never talked about Malfoy Manor. 

At the very same time, they speak: “I’m sorry.” and “I never blamed you.” at the same time, and then terrified eyes lost in each other’s gaze. 

Hermione’s never been one for difficult emotions. She starts laughing, giggling at first and he’s looking at her like she is unstable and insane and she’s choking on how insane this all is and how did they find each other. 

“We are,” she breaks off, interrupted by another chain of giggles, “We are quite a pair, Malfoy. However did we find each other?”

Nothing else needs to be said. They find comfort in the unspoken: touches, eye contact, acts of kindness, protectiveness. They don’t need to talk about things they desperately want to leave behind them. 

“Well, Granger, I believe you burst into my compartment looking for a toad some years ago.”

“And you were an utter arse for the next 7 years.”

“And then you became obsessed with me. And of course I pitied you, so here we are,” he smirks, knowing he’s bought himself a thorough chastisement. 

He doesn’t expect his witch to launch herself into his arms, to place her soft lips on his in a touch that says everything and nothing. 

And their nightmares don’t define them. Maybe they’ll talk about them, maybe they won’t. They won’t let the darkness of before taint the dreams they have for the future. The dreams of something that might be, something that could be, some future that links them together. 

[theresnosafeharbor4myships]

TITLE: Out of the Grave - Chapter 4: The Rest of All Time (Chapter 1 here, Chapter 2 here, Chapter 3 here)

A/N: Final chapter. I’d love to know what you think of this happy little fic! :D

Ichabod slowly came awake, his mind taking its time to acquaint itself with reality. He stretched languidly, feeling pleasantly rested for the first time in days. And then he remembered last night. His eyes flew open to find the space beside him empty, and his heart plummeted into his stomach. Had it all been a dream? An alcohol-induced fantasy? But no...the pillow beside him still held the faint dip of having been slept on and the bedroom door stood wide open. The deep scent of coffee and the tantalizing smell of bacon reached him, and he knew he hadn't imagined Abbie's return. With eager purpose, he hopped out of bed, making a pit stop before padding a tad anxiously down the hall to the kitchen. The Lieutenant stood at the island, flipping pancakes on the hot griddle in front of her. Her eyes darted up as he moved into the room. "G'morning, sleepyhead," she greeted with a smile. "Good morning, Lieutenant." He stood watching her, her ease in the kitchen (so unlike him), her small hands deftly pouring batter and flipping hot cakes. "I wanted to run to the bakery and get you some donut holes, surprise you, but I didn't want you to wake up while I was gone and think..." She fluttered the spatula in the air, glancing up at him. He nodded in appreciation. "Thank you," he murmured. "So instead," she moved on brightly, "I'm making some of my blueberry chocolate chip pancakes. And maybe a little candied bacon...?" "Ohh, you do know how to spoil me, Lieutenant," he stated eagerly. "I shall prepare our coffee." "Sounds good 'cause everything's just about done." Ichabod poured two cups of coffee, making them perfectly to their preferences, and set them at the breakfast bar. He retrieved plates and utensils, butter and syrup, as Abbie finished cooking. She set a plate piled high with pancakes and another full of candied bacon on the bar, and together they sat down to eat. "How'd you sleep, Lieutenant?" he asked after praising her for blessing him with such delectable sweets. "Well," she acknowledged with a nod. "You? You seem rested..." "Yes. My sleep was most peaceful." He filled his mouth with another bite of pancakes before he let it spill that she was the reason for his respite. Though he suspected she knew that after exhibiting how vulnerable he'd felt last night. They passed into comfortable silence, and Ichabod reveled in this simplest of pleasures, one he thought he'd never experience again. Abbie made his world, this world, come alive in a way he desperately feared losing. And while he'd never alter the way they fought monsters and demons and solved crimes and queries together, he'd take these moments—sitting in the early morning quiet, enjoying good food and better company, watching the morning sunlight play off her flawless skin, knowing he could just be when he was with her—over all the adventures in the world.

Abbie pushed her plate away as he took his last bite, and they both sat nursing their coffee. "What time are we expecting Miss Jenny this morning?" he asked after a few more moments of bliss. "Mm, I had a text from her when I woke up. She'll be here in a few hours. Seems she got to bed late." She turned her head slightly to look at him. "And I suspect she wanted to give us some time to catch up." "Mmm," he hummed, his face resolute as he nodded in agreement. He saw her waiting for him to speak, but he didn't know where to begin. He'd spilled enough last evening to quell the overflowing tide of emotion he'd been drowning in for days, but so much more remained. Not to mention he longed, if apprehensively, to hear her thoughts on all he'd conveyed. His expression must've revealed his pensiveness because the Lieutenant leaned forward slightly to catch his eye. "Crane?" He looked at her and nodded to let her know his willingness to talk. "I shall just refill my cuppa. Would you like more as well?" She gave him a look that told him she believed he was stalling—and maybe he was—but she replied anyway. "Water for me, thanks." Abbie set their plates and silverware in the sink and put everything else away as he prepared their drinks, and when they were done, he followed her into the living room. She sat at one end of the couch, and he chose a spot near her, leaving a bit of space between them. He glanced at her, and their arrangement struck a memory from not long ago, after she'd revealed her connection to the then-unknown emblem of Thura by nearly letting him expire. As much as that had frightened him, it paled in comparison to losing her, to watching her vanish before his eyes. "Crane...tell me what happened after I... disappeared into the box." She asked gently, softly, and though it still made his heart ache—even as she sat next to him—he couldn't refuse her. He took a brave breath and spoke. "I was so sure we'd defeat them. I thought it was an inevitability; we've faced so many things before. But I looked up, and you were just...gone. I'd never felt as empty as I did in that moment." He paused, trying to think past the second she'd dissolved into that mythical box, but the visual played in his cursed eidetic mind once more. He felt Abbie grip his hand, and he squeezed hers once in gratitude for the tether to the present, even as he relived the past. "You are not an easy person to lose, Lieutenant." He swallowed hard. "With the Hidden One weakened, Miss Jenny shot him. And Pandora, endowed with her husband's power and longing to rule in his stead, betrayed us. She and her box disappeared. Miss Jenny and I devised a plan and, using the map, tracked her to the cemetery above the tunnels. I...called forth the headless horseman to fight against her." He paused to gauge her expression, but she still listened intently without judgement, eyes wide. "When his broadax stuck in a tree and she began pulling him into her box, I knew she would defeat him without assistance. So I retrieved his ax and threw it to him just as he reached her. He cut her down where she stood." Abbie nodded slowly, taking it in, and he could see she regretted not being there to help him finish their job. "She was defeated," he assured her. "They both were in the end. I demanded she release you before she expired, and it was then she confirmed your...demise. When she breathed her last, the box began to glow, so I grabbed it and ran for the tunnels. I secured it in the Masonic cell, and as I started to retreat, it blew up. The force pushed me through the tunnels, and it knocked me out. You came to me then. At least I thought it was you." He looked at her questioningly. "Did you come to me? From wherever you were?" She shook her head, sadness and empathy written on her face. He nodded, then turned back to stare straight ahead, into the recent past. "I dreamed of you then. Just like it happened the first time we met when I was imprisoned in that infernal cell and you came to me. This time you told me I had to say goodbye. Then, in the way that dreams do, we were suddenly in the Archives....you told me your job was done...your soul was free. You took me by the hand and...led me home. We sat on the porch and you...you consoled me while I...." "While you what, Crane?" Her whispered voice came to him, floated through him as he remembered his words to her. "What is there for me in a world without you?" he repeated the sentiment that’d haunted him since she’d disappeared into that box. His eyes met hers. "It's what I said to you. What I should've said." He shook his head, closing his eyes momentarily in frustration. "What I'm saying now. Because I should've said it before." He saw her expression soften, her expectant look filling him with hope. "These last few days, all I could think of was how I told you...the dream you...that I'd miss you. How I kissed your hand and bowed low and when I looked up, you were just...gone again. How I didn't tell you while you were here all the ways you've changed my life. I couldn't have found a better guide through this modern world if I'd stumbled upon the Pope himself. You mean everything to me, and everyone saw it but I didn't say anything." He balled his hand into a fist as he bit off the last few words. One of her hands covered his fist, the other coming up and cupping his jaw, her eyes filled with unshed tears. "You're saying it now. And I hear every word." Her thumb traced over his lips, and he closed his eyes, the frustration evaporating, his heart floating into his throat. He kissed her thumb, captivated by her closeness, her sweet acceptance of all that he'd said. And still...he longed to know her thoughts. He grasped her hand and brought it to his lips for another kiss, and this time when he opened his eyes she still sat before him. "There are some things I need you to hear, too," she admitted quietly, her expression tentative and vulnerable. "Things I haven't told you." He nodded once and took a deep breath, mind racing at what she might reveal, heart thundering with worry that she would reject him gently but definitively and he'd be destroyed all over again. "When we were in that boat crossing the Delaware and I told you how rare it is for someone to have the kind of unwavering faith that you do, I meant it. Your kind of devotion is nearly unheard of, but what makes it more...intense is that that faith is in me. And I've been...afraid for a long time." He didn't follow her logic just yet, and he knew confusion had crept onto his face, but he waited for her to speak her mind. "Afraid I'm some kind of curse, that the people I care about always leave or die because of me. My father, my mother, then Jenny. Corbin, Frank, and now Joe." She veiled her expression in that way she did when things hurt too much but she had to press on. Ichabod longed to comfort her but made himself stay frozen in place to hear the rest of what she'd say. "I hate what happened to all of them, fates that I couldn't prevent, and I never wanted you to be on that list. Despite that concern, you're my closest friend. My fellow Witness. And that makes the threats against you that much more dangerous and palpable." He saw her steel herself. "But that's not the only thing I've been afraid of." "What is it, Abbie?" he wondered with a whisper when she didn't continue, brows drawn in concentration. "I've been afraid..." She sucked in a deep breath. "That all the things I've been feeling for so long now were unrequited. There've been others in both of our lives that've made me... question, but regardless of who's come and gone, my feelings for you haven't changed. Have only continued to grow, no matter how hard I tried to deny them. I've been afraid of them because...I didn't want you to leave too. You did, and when you came back, I wasn't sure how you felt about me. Then we were in that boat, about to head straight into the catacombs, and with that same rare, unwavering faith, you told me that when it came to you and me, you had no greater certainty." He nodded, affirming his sentiment once again as he stared intently at her. His chest felt tight, as though someone had his cinched it in a vice, and he waited anxiously for her next words. "In that moment, I saw it in your eyes. Felt it in my soul, like a puzzle piece locking into place. And when I heard what Betsy said to you, I didn't want to pretend what I felt wasn't real anymore." "You heard what Betsy said?" he queried a bit shyly. She nodded. "I heard how you didn't deny it, and I knew I wanted to tell you too. I just didn't get the chance until now." Her eyes held his, soft and open, looking at him as if she could see right into his soul. "I've wanted to tell you since I came back from the catacombs, but everything felt so raw and abrasive when I returned. Now...now everything feels fresh and new." Her body turned to face him more fully. "And I need you to know now...I love you. Your friendship, our partnership, is and has been the most important thing in my life, and I couldn't have faced the evils of this world without you. I never want to. I always want to be with you." Ichabod felt a flush race over his skin, his mind reeling from her admission, his pulse racing. He cupped her face with one hand, staring blissfully into her eyes. His thumb brushed over her cheekbone as he marveled at this most perfect of dreams coming true. "Abbie," he murmured in wonder, half statement, half question. "Shhh," she whispered softly, staring at him dreamily, her gaze darting to his mouth and back to his eyes. "Enough talk for now. Let's just...be." He moved to kiss her then, soft, languid, lingering kisses that deliciously teased and tortured him with their sweetness, her perfect lips responding to his better than every fantasy he'd ever conjured. He trailed kisses to her cheek, her cheekbone, her eyelid, before finally easing away from her. Abbie's eyes slowly fluttered open, and a pleased smile teased her lips as he drew his arm around her and she settled into his side. They sat in silence for some time, his fingers trailing up and down her arm. He'd never thought it possible to find himself here: content, fulfilled, free to hold Abbie in his arms, to kiss her. To hear her readily admit she loved him. To unabashedly speak of his love for her. God's wounds, only yesterday she'd been forever lost to him. Someday, when the biblical prophecy came true and he and Abbie met their demise, he'd spend an eternity thanking God for his Lieutenant, his better half, and the rest of all time loving her all over again. But for now, he held her in his arms.